The Earth, It Trembles
by ginginlee
Summary: A girl, a boy, a God, a life, a rebirth, an escape, an attempt at living again.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, guys! So, I'm starting something new here, something that will probably be short, probably update often, that's sort of a writing challenge to myself. **

**I hope you all will enjoy this; it's really different and deals with some themes I haven't really seen explored in fanfiction, so hopefully it will be intriguing enough to keep your attention.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.**

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><p><em>2006<em>

Trying to be inconspicuous, Bella lets her hair fall over her shoulder, creating a curtain around her face, keeping her straying eyes hidden from her peers.

He's new here; the fact that he carries his guitar with him to this small school immediately sets him apart, let alone his too-long hair and ragged jeans. Flip flops reside on his feet despite the near-freezing temperatures outside. He's so different, so intriguing, and Bella isn't the only one to take notice.

The other thing that makes him unique, at least in this almost atheistic town, is the Bible in his left hand.

She's seen him reading it during class, in between class, over lunch, in his car after school and in the hallway before school. Always reading, sometimes smiling, sometimes closing his eyes, and once, crying.

He looks at those around him like a hunter searching for prey, or perhaps a scientist looking upon his test subjects, a little bittersweet and sympathetic, but ultimately, his experiments will be cast upon them all.

She's already caught in his web.

He shares her biology table in fifth period. He's not terribly smart, or at least he doesn't try, but she doesn't care. He's learned her name and told her he prays for her every night. She wonders what he prays about, what he thinks she needs that she doesn't yet have.

Today she's going to ask him.

The walk to class goes by too quickly. She's terribly nervous, unsure what his slate blue eyes will see when he looks at her, what he'll think of her shaky voice. Why she cares, she doesn't know, but the way his blonde hair glows around his face, like a halo, like her own personal angel sent to save her—it's hypnotizing.

When he reaches their table, he pulls out his stool, perching on it with his perfect posture, but slowly rotating to look at her.

His plain white shirt emphasizes his tan skin, gives golden tones to his hair, and makes his eyes even more piercing. It's like looking into the sun; after she looks away, everything else is dark and spotty, unclear and unformed and just less-than.

"So," she begins, her voice louder than she meant for it to be, but it draws his attention quickly. "When you pray for me . . ."

He smiles. His teeth are so perfect, too perfect, straight and white and big—his smile is almost menacing, like he could take a bite out of her at any moment.

"Yeah?" he asks, settling in, leaning his elbow against the table, his eyes staying locked on hers.

"What do you pray about?"

He watches her, gazing for far too long to be socially acceptable, and she looks away. But when she looks back, he's still looking, and her eyes dart everywhere, her skin heating, her body suddenly feeling too small for her organs, and she can't keep the discomfort from taking her over.

Maybe noticing her blush, or maybe just ready to answer, he puts her out of her misery, both looking away and speaking.

"I pray you find the light—the truth. I pray that you'll ask Jesus into your heart," he says, and she's breathless. Why something usually so trite rings true to her, she can't say. Why something she should laugh at makes her heart tingle and butterflies erupt, she can't say.

What she can say: "Why?"

"Eternity is a long time, Bella," he says, leaning closer, looking deep into her eyes, seeing every thought she's ever had, every word and deed and sin she's ever committed. "Your soul is too good to not go to heaven."

She wants to mock him, tip his precious Bible off the desk and watch it fall to the floor, or slap him; how dare he wax poetic about her soul and her future. But she doesn't do those things, because the thing she really, truly wants to do is fall into him, let him wrap her up and tell her about Jesus and the world and heaven and believe him and have something to live for.

But Mr. Banner interrupts before she can do any of those things.

"Mr. Whitlock!" the teacher shouts, obviously not the first time he's tried to get Jasper's attention. "The answer?"

Jasper looks properly abashed, though Bella suspects he's faking it, and looks up at the front of the class. She's left feeling bereft, wishing for more of his words and light and that truth that he mentioned.

They don't get the chance to talk anymore, but as the bell rings and Jasper rises from his stool, he looks over at her and smiles.

"Come to church with me on Friday night," he tells her, leaving no room to say no, not that she wants to.

She nods, hiding her own smile, something blossoming inside of her, making her feel like she was taking a step down the right path, a step that would lead to the rest of her life.

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><p><em>2012<em>

Bella's shoulders are hunched as the man beside her shows her how to clean the espresso machine. His proximity and his smell and his damn good looks make her nervous; the way he smiles at her is too familiar, though this is a completely different man in a different place. He's a nice, normal guy she tells herself, but her body is a traitor, and alarm bells ring in her head, telling her to run far, far away.

"Got it?" he asks. He's tall and lean, his build so reminiscent of Jasper's she wants to back away, but the small space behind the counter won't let her.

She nods in response, and as her eyes travel up, higher and higher until they reach Edward's face, she realizes he's not Jasper at all. He looks down at her kindly, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"We can go over it again," he says, misreading the tension in her body, but she lets him. She nods again, still not speaking to him, and watches as he starts the entire process over.

When her shift is finished, her training almost complete, a cup appears in front of her. Edward gives her another sweet smile, the one she both loves and hates, and his fingers brush hers as she takes it from him.

"I noticed you didn't get anything," he points out. "Greg should've told you. You can get anything during your shift you want."

Bella nods, remembering that her boss did tell her that, but she didn't have the time to contemplate it when she was so busy avoiding Edward. She takes a sip of the drink, the warmth and sweetness just perfect.

"Mmm," she hums quietly, eliciting a raised eyebrow from Edward. "What is this?"

He seems delighted to hear her voice, finally, and leans closer to her, speaking conspiratorially. "Something special. A secret recipe."

She thinks about leaning away, but his presence, his low voice, his pretty face paralyze her temporarily.

"I made it just for you," he says, clearly flirting, and it snaps her out of her trance. Her face goes blank, cold, and just like that, she turns to leave, not even saying goodbye to her coworker.

Walking to her car, she feels paranoid, glancing repeatedly over her shoulder, checking the back seat of her vehicle and underneath before getting in. The feeling of being watched is still so strong, and being back out in the real world makes her extra skittish.

As she drives home, her mind wanders. But for the first time in a long time, she doesn't think of her old house or Jasper or the guitar or any of that.

She thinks of Edward and his smile.


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's another installment. I'm writing this as I can and posting it right away, so I'm sure there will be errors, but this is just something I'm trying to work through. Thanks to all who put this on alert yesterday, I really appreciate it, and I hope you get something from this.**

**I don't own Twilight.**

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><p><em>2012<em>

Keeping her eyes down, Bella strides into work, trying not to notice the attractive man already situated behind the counter—the one with the pretty eyes, the smile that tries its damndest to coax one out of her, too. She doesn't have to look at him, notice him, give him anything. She doesn't.

She clocks in and ties her apron around her waist, stalling as long as she can in the back so she doesn't have to face him just yet.

But karma's working against her, and in he walks, stubble on his jaw, irises bright in the shadowed skin around them. He looks tired, or maybe hungover, but he still gives her a smile.

"Hey," he greets, maneuvering around her in the small space. His chest brushes her shoulder, the smell of him filling her nostrils, making her scoot away and hit her head on a shelf. He looks concerned as she pats her scalp, looking down instead of at his questioning gaze.

"I better go watch the front," she tells him, pushing the swinging door open and quickly walking away. She grabs a rag and starts wiping everything down, whether it needs it or not. A few minutes pass, but then he's back, right next to her, behind her, over top of her, it feels like.

"How old are you, Bella?" he asks, so casual, so conversational, like she isn't awkward or unsocial, like they were already talking like friends.

"Twenty-three."

"Cool," he says with a nod. The café is empty, completely dead until the after-work rush hits. "You've got me beat."

There's a silence that lingers then, one built by him, waiting for her to ask or at least acknowledge that he spoke. It niggles at her, pulling at her mind until she finally looks up, looks right at him, and tries.

"Really? How old are you?"

"Twenty-two. Almost. In five more months." He blushes but she isn't sure why. "Okay, ten months. I just turned twenty-one."

She has to smile at his embarrassment, the way he caught himself in a lie, the way he couldn't help but amend it to be honest with her. She appreciates that, despite the fact that he was trying to impress her.

"You go to school around here?" he asks.

She shakes her head. Her eyes dart around, away from him, landing on the bright chrome of the espresso machine, and staying there. "I'm not from here."

"Oh. Are you already graduated, then?"

"No," she tells him, sighing, signaling that she doesn't want to talk about it anymore. She doesn't need to be reminded about her lack of options; she doesn't have the luxury to make plans. She had only just gotten her GED which qualified her for this job, and she can't afford to look too far into the future. The only goal she has currently is to move out of the shelter, into her own place.

But she isn't telling Edward any of that. He doesn't need to know; it's bad enough that she had to admit to her boss, Greg, that she's basically homeless and uneducated. The fact that he gave her a job anyway is a miracle.

She tries not to think about miracles, though, or anyone who may cause them.

"Are," she starts, clearing her throat a little. "Are you in school?"

"Yep. Three semesters to go. Then I'm free," he says with a snort. "Not really. I'll have to go to grad school, if not doctorate after that. It's impossible to get a job these days, regardless. I might just stay in school forever."

The state of the world is foreign to her, though over the past three months, she's heard a lot about the economy, the president, the war—all the things she was sequestered from. She's learning a little more each day, but she's still in the dark about so much.

Either her forced smile or her general demeanor tell Edward that she's checking out of the conversation, but he gets the hint. Dialing it down, he pulls a book out from under the register and flips through it, reading silently to himself instead of forcing anything.

Bella doesn't want to be so difficult, so uncomfortable, but she can't be any other way, not yet. She's working on it, each day, but there's only so much she can do.

Eventually customers begin to filter in and help the time fly by. Bella's not as fast as Edward, nor as efficient, but he doesn't get frustrated with her. After a steady stream of espresso drinks, the crowd dies down, most either settled in to read or write or just relax, the rest gone to use their caffeine pick-me-ups elsewhere.

Edward stays the whole night, helping her close and offering to walk her to her car. The town they live in isn't very large, but there tends to be a lot of crime near the university, so she needs to remember to be careful. Or so he tells her.

As Bella steps up to the driver's side door of the old beater she's driving—a loaner from Pat, at the shelter—Edward touches her arm, wishing her a goodnight. The touch is good, warm, tingly. Bella feels it down to her bones, through her muscles and nerves and veins, pumping something exciting through her, making her heart beat faster.

She nods in agreement with his parting and gets in the car, driving away without looking back at him.

If she does look back, maybe as she's pulling out of the lot, where he can't see her, she might see him watching her go.


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's another one. Again, this is dealing with some different stuff, and I'm not trying to make any specific religious statements with this story.**

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><p><em>2006<em>

Bella meets Jasper in the school parking lot that Friday night, just after dusk settles in. She stays in her truck, waiting for him, with the heat turned up. The winter has been mild, but this evening brought a cold snap with it.

An old, beat up car pulls into the lot, and she recognizes Jasper's blonde, shoulder length hair immediately. He comes to a stop next to her, manually rolling down his window, and hollering up at her.

"You can follow me," he tells her. She feels disappointed for moment, but shakes it off. Church is not a date, she tells herself. Why she had expected more, she doesn't know.

Nodding, Jasper pulls out, driving slowly through town until they turn off on a rural road, a few miles from the school. No street lamps, no guardrails, nothing to signify that they are still in civilization. As the road grows thinner and winding, pavement becoming gravel becoming dirt, she begins to feel a flutter in her chest—not one of excitement, but one of fear.

She doesn't know this boy, she realizes, not even a little bit. Following him to an undisclosed location clearly isn't a good idea, but having her own vehicle at her disposal calms her nerves just slightly.

That is, until they pull up to a large farmhouse, situated in the middle of a clearing, the forest thick all along the perimeter.

The house is lit up, windows shining like the gaps in between jack-o-lantern teeth, bodies packed tightly in a downstairs room that she can see. Jasper waits for her by his car as she slowly, very slowly, gets out of her truck and walks toward the house. His hands are empty, his trademark guitar and Bible nowhere to be seen. They walk side by side to the door, which he opens for her, no closer to one another than acquaintances would be.

Upon entering, a rush of warmth hits her—a fireplace full of flames heats the house, in addition to the myriad bodies filling the house. Smiles are in place, hands extended immediately, women and men and children all welcoming her, telling her to have a seat, many wanting her to join them.

But she follows Jasper instead, until she realizes he's going to the front of the room and picking up his guitar. Chairs are in haphazard lines, all facing where Jasper and another man stand, and in embarrassment, Bella veers off and goes to the back, taking a seat near enough to the exit that she feels more comfortable.

The man beside Jasper starts with a prayer, a simple, "Speak to us, Lord, let us feel your presence. Visit us."

Bella's been to church once in her life, and it was nothing like this. It was stuffy and formal and boring and quiet. This was intimate, familial, and most of all, loud. As Jasper began to strum his guitar, a young woman joined in on a keyboard set up at the front. Two others, a man and a woman, set in the front row, large drums situated between their legs, and they began a steady, rhythmic beat, pulsing through the room, affecting Bella's own heartbeat.

"Lift your voices," the pastor said, and in a gush the room was full of sounds and songs and prayers, but all in languages Bella hadn't heard before. It was guttural and feral and unfamiliar, terrifying yet mesmerizing at the same time. What do they say? What do they pray? She wants to know. Does God hear them?

While terror fills her mind, something telling her this isn't right, this isn't normal, something burns and yearns within her heart, urging her to find a way to join, to find a way to experience what these people are experiencing.

A woman moves into what appears to be an aisle, her feet hopping side to side, her arms swaying, and she dances. She looks like an angel, or maybe a warrior. She stomps along with the drums, arms waving like grain in the wind, and Bella can't look away.

She doesn't know the songs they're singing, though it seems that no one does. Different voices singing different things, nothing rhyming yet everything coordinating, fill the room, bouncing off the ceiling and weighing on her shoulders. Something's happening here, she just knows it, but she can't put a name to it, or a face, and she isn't sure if she wants to see what it is—but a part of her has to know, has to see and feel and hear.

Hours pass, she thinks, though it feels like minutes, the room going from explosive energy to subdued weeping, begging, kneeling and repenting.

As best she can tell, these people are praying for themselves, their family members, the world they haven't seen yet, that all may know God, that all may see Him. Bella's included in that, and as a couple approach her, pressing their hands on her shoulders, their voices rising around her in a cacophonous prayer, she feels something spinning inside her, asking and seeking and accepting and hoarding. Whatever this burning is, she wants to keep it, a fire in her bones.

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><p><em>2012<em>

Bella lies in bed, staring at her ceiling. Everything is cold and empty here, she notices. Nothing seems alive, nothing seems real or warm or true.

Words enter her mind unbidden, a prayer she used to prayer, but she shuts it out. She doesn't want to speak to God, not tonight, not ever again.

Rolling onto her side, she says goodnight to no one.


	4. Chapter 4

**Here's another one for you.**

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><p><em>2006<em>

Rubbing at her tired eyes, Bella walks into her small eat-in kitchen. As she pours herself a bowl of cereal, she hears heavy footsteps approach from the hallway. Her father stands there, saying nothing, scratching his stomach.

As she turns and looks at him, he finally speaks. "Morning."

"Morning," she replies, sitting down at the table and digging in, the little cinnamon squares not tasting quite as good as usual. Her head feels foggy, like someone pumped innocuous gas into her brain, hurting nothing but making her entire experience of the world different.

The night before feels like a dream, a distant memory, and yet it pulses through her veins, turning her blood a different shade of red. She glances up at her father through her eyelashes, wondering if she looks any different to him.

As he pours himself a cup of coffee, he clears his throat. "Got home late last night, huh?"

She stills, her spoon suspended in midair. It's not like him to notice that sort of thing, and she's unsure how to respond, especially since she doesn't have a curfew, as far as she knows.

"I went out," she says, vague and disinterested, her shoulders shrugging with her words.

"Mmm," he father hums in response. He asks nothing more, and she's relieved. Her father is a man of science, a man of the law and common sense; he has never expressed an interest or belief in religion, and whether he'd disapprove or not, Bella isn't going to find out. She sets her bowl in the sink and heads to her room.

When she closes the door behind her, she looks around her room, her eyes landing on the worn Bible Jasper sent her home with last night. Picking it up, she begins flipping through, so many books and chapters, verses and characters—she doesn't know where to begin.

She feels giddy, dreamy, like she had an incredible first date, like she experienced love at first sight. There's a peace, an excitement, an anticipation there now that she hadn't had before. She feels like she found love, and maybe she did—but she thinks she found God.

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><p><em>2012<em>

It's the first shift Bella's had to work alone since she got the job. As Edward leaves—he always seems to be the one that works before her and after her, or at the same time—he wishes her good luck.

The work isn't what makes her anxious, or what makes her wish someone else were with her. She can measure this, heat that, steam this, add that, take the money, slide the cards. What she can't do is be normal. Customers come in, some order and leave, some order and stay, some order and make small talk, and some just seem to make small talk and never get around to ordering. She smiles and laughs when it seems appropriate, she thinks, but it's forced and delayed and no one sticks around to talk to her anymore.

A couple comes in, arms wrapped around waists, lips on lips when they aren't taking drinks of their highly sweetened coffees. Bella watches them even though she doesn't want to. She wipes down the tables, her eyes flickering, keeping the couple in her periphery.

She's being obvious, she realizes, when she hears the girl whisper to the boy, "She won't stop looking." The boy looks up, right at Bella, whose face is now burning hot. Without looking at them again, she walks quickly to the back, pushing through the door and taking a few deep breaths as she stares at a box of coffee stirs.

If things were only easier, she tells herself—if only she hadn't been so secluded, so cut off, so old fashioned and backwoods, maybe then . . ..

With another deep breath, she shakes her head, straightens her shoulders, lifts her head, and walks back out to the front.

Someone's standing at the counter and she hurries to help them, feeling ridiculous for making them wait as she hid in the back. With a smile, not quite bright, but decent, she greets the customer and asks what she can get for them.

"Actually, I'm looking for Edward," the girl says. "Is he working?"

Bella shakes her head, her eyes surveying the girl. She's pretty, Bella realizes, really pretty, with crystal blue eyes, tan, even skin, hair that's not exactly brown but almost. She's tall and thin and perfect looking, her eyebrows arched just so, lips pink and plump, nose cute and button-like. Bella hates her, a pit of jealousy opening up in her gut, churning and clawing hungrily at her insides.

"No," she finally says, her voice small and frail. The girl nods distractedly, but Bella isn't sure what she did wrong.

The bell above the door rings loudly as the girl walks out, her heeled boots announcing each step she takes, her hips swaying seductively side to side.

Left alone in the café with nothing but her thoughts and her self-hated, Bella stands frozen, waiting for something she won't even recognize.


	5. Chapter 5

**Here you go.**

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><p><em>2012<em>

Two months of working at the café, two months of hoarding every quarter left in the tip jar, two months of trying to be a normal, functioning member of society—Bella's finally saved enough money to get a place of her own.

Pat, the woman who runs the shelter Bella's staying in, goes with her to ensure the girl doesn't get gypped or taken advantage of. After paying a hefty deposit and first month's rent, and getting her utilities set up, Bella signs a lease, doing the first adult thing she's ever done in her life. Unfortunately, since she's moving out of the shelter, Pat's vehicle is no longer at her disposal. The shoebox apartment she's renting is barely a mile away from her work, so she plans to walk.

Edward comes in to help with the evening crowd, a short little swing shift, and Bella gives him a smile as he walks in. Each day she grows a little more comfortable being around him, and does a little bit better at making conversation.

But he surprises her this Friday night, just as he's leaving.

"Hey—I was thinking, maybe we could watch a movie tomorrow or something," he says, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck. "I mean, I saw you weren't working tomorrow night. And neither am I."

"Um, oh," she replies, feeling awkward and suddenly ten degrees too hot. "I'm actually moving tomorrow, so . . .."

His eyes light up. "I can help you. I have a truck."

"I don't really need a truck." She's trying to be evasive, but he just keeps pushing. While she wants to tell him to drop it, she also wants him to persist.

"I can help you unpack."

"There's not really anything to unpack."

He eyes her for a moment. "Is it furnished?"

Shaking her head, she looks around for something to do, anything to busy her hands and occupy her as this conversation continues.

"Are you," he begins, pausing for a moment. "Moving in with someone?"

"No," she says quickly, as quickly as she can.

She looks up at him. They stare at each other for several seconds, his face growing curious and suspicious, hers looking frightened.

"Why don't you just tell me what's really going on here," he offers, gesturing between the two of them. "Because I have no idea."

She sighs. Grabbing a rag, she begins polishing the espresso machine, keeping her eyes averted. "I'm moving into an apartment, but I don't have any stuff to move, except for some clothes. Okay? I don't own anything, so I don't need any help. That's it."

Edward nods, pursing his lips like he's thinking.

"You have a bed?"

She shakes her head.

"A couch?"

She shakes her head.

"A cot?" She does nothing this time, just waiting for him to continue. "One of those mats for kindergarten nap time? A blanket at least?"

"I've got a few things from my—my friend," she explains, turning and forcing herself to raise her eyes to his. "I'm fine."

A customer walks in, thankfully breaking the tension, at least momentarily. As Bella grabs a muffin for him, Edward prepares the man's coffee, still looking lost in thought. As the customer leaves the counter, Bella secretly wishes he'd stay and somehow keep Edward from talking to her anymore.

"How's this—I have some furniture—" He holds up his hand when he sees that Bella's about to argue. "It's old, stuff from when I was a kid, but my mom doesn't want me to get rid of it. You'd be doing me a favor, really."

His eyes slide past hers, a tell, letting her know he's fibbing about something, but she doesn't stop him.

"I don't have room for it all." He eyes her, gauging her reaction so far. She motions for him to go on. "It's not much. A small dresser. A nightstand. This table thing, with drawers."

Bella looks at her feet, her heels pressed together, toes pointed out, standing like she's about to perform a ballet move, not sure what to say to him. It seems like she should turn him down, refuse the offer, and do it all herself, but maybe that's not what she really needs. By this point, she's realized she can't do it all by herself.

"Okay." Edward smiles brilliantly, surprise and relief evident on his face.

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><p>Bella stands outside of her new apartment building, hands in her pockets, waiting for Edward to show. He said he'd come around ten with the stuff he promised her, but it's nearly eleven and he hasn't shown yet.<p>

With a sigh, she goes inside, sitting in the middle of her living room/dining room, legs crossed, elbows on knees, chin in hands. The space is so small, yet feels so big and lonely to her. The room lightens gradually as the sun climbs higher in the sky, and finally, a quiet knock sounds at her front door.

Knees popping as she stands, she slowly makes her way to open it, seeing Edward's sheepish smile immediately.

"Sorry I'm late," he tells her, sneaking a look past her and glancing around. "You wanna help me with this?"

She nods and follows him outside, leaving the door open—there's nothing for anyone to sneak in and steal, after all.

When they reach Edward's truck, she stops short, looking at everything he has crammed into the bed. She immediately spots a mattress, as well as a futon, a glass coffee table, and several boxes marked "kitchen."

"My mom," he explains as he catches her looking. There's a redness to his cheeks Bella hasn't seen before, revealing his embarrassment over the situation. "I asked her about this old futon and when I went to pick it up, she sorta . . . went crazy."

"I-I don't know," Bella stutters.

"It's all on loan," he says. Grabbing a lamp with a topless mermaid as the base, he holds it out. "I mean, I can't live without this. I fully expect it back."

He grins and she can't help but return it.

"But seriously. Half of this stuff was my brother's in college and he stuffed it all in my parents' garage. Mom was thrilled to clean it out."

The two work quickly, carrying the stuff up the single set of stairs, though Bella huffs and puffs through some of the heavy lifting. When Edward slides the twin mattress out of the truck, he looks embarrassed again.

"This was mine," he begins, "but, uh, it's clean and stuff."

She hides her smile, and helps guide him up the stairs. Even with all the stuff he brought, it still isn't much, and it only takes them an hour to unload it and unpack the few kitchen supplies. Old, scratched up pots and pans fill her cabinets, clearly having seen better days but still usable, Edward affirms.

Bella has enough money saved to buy some of the items she still needs—or, in her mind, she thinks she needs—and she and Edward take off to go in search of some deals. After scouring some resale stores, she finally gives in and forks over thirty dollars for a coffee maker.

"You can't work not have a coffee maker," he tells her.

The afternoon is quickly fading as they return, filling her fridge with the groceries they bought before collapsing on her new-to-her futon.

"So."

"So," she replies, feeling anxious and uncomfortable suddenly. The entire day has been nice, even relaxed and easy at times, but now that she and Edward have no more work to complete, and his arm is grazing hers as they sit side by side, she's back to be socially awkward as usual. "You're nice."

She cringes at the incredibly lame line that just escaped her lips, but Edward doesn't laugh or even give her a mocking smile. He looks at her, really looks, and nods. "Thank you."

It's quiet in the apartment, no television or computer or mp3 player to fill the space with sound.

"Why don't we pick up pizza—my treat—and watch a movie at my place?" he asks, sounding confident, but there's something in his eyes, a fear there, as he waits for her answer.

He can tell she's about to turn him down. "I'll let you pick the movie."

"I don't really know what movies are out," she offers, a feeble argument. The last movie she went to was a failed double date to see _The DaVinci Code_, and she didn't care to remember what her date tried to do during the film.

"Then I'll pick. Come on," he says in a quiet voice. "It'll be fun."

For the second time in as many days, Bella takes a chance. "Okay."

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><p><em>2006<em>

Bella walks down the hallway, pushing open the door to her room to find her father perched on her bed, a notebook in his hands.

She freezes, a unfamiliar feeling welling up inside her—humiliation, maybe, but it's more severe than that. He looks at her with questions in his eyes. She'd rather him find porn or love notes or anything else in her room, but instead he found the notebook she writes her prayers in.

The two stare at each other, neither knowing what to say, how to break this silence. They've never been good at communicating, not with other people and certainly not with each other. He closes the cover and sets the notebook aside.

"I," he begins. "I didn't know you were . . .."

Her face is flaming red, she knows, the heat so unbearable it makes her head hurt, the fire seeping down her body, upsetting her stomach, making her limbs sweat.

"Into that. God and stuff."

She shakes her head, walking around the bed, moving just to do something, her back to her father. "I've just been going to church some lately."

"Oh."

The bed creaks as he stands. He's almost to the door when he looks back at her. "Well. Goodnight."

"Night."

As he shuts the door behind him, Bella walks over to her bed, opening the notebook and looking at it with fresh eyes, the way her father must've been when he opened it. The urgency, the obsession there, it must be so foreign to him. How could he ever understand what it's like to be stuck here, on earth, when there's this other place they're meant for? He doesn't know how it feels to be stuck in this body, limited and weak and so unholy when there's a heavenly body waiting.

Bella has never really felt like she belonged here, so hearing the words of the pastor that night, and so many nights since, listening to the songs Jasper sings, she now knows why.

There's a sea of glass, a throne of gold, a white knight leading an army. That's where her home is.


	6. Chapter 6

**Happy Friday.**

* * *

><p><em>2012<em>

Bella looks around Edward's apartment as he gets them some plates for their pizza.

She immediately spots a Bible almost hidden in a stack of other books, and she feels a sliver of panic settle into her heart. While Edward seems nothing like Jasper, she doesn't want to get into something she can't handle.

When he comes back into the living room, he notices the tension in her shoulders, the way her eyebrows are pinching together, and gently touches her arm. With a jolt, she pulls away, but looking apologetic almost instantly.

"Sorry," he says, though not sure what he's sorry for. Her eyes dart around the room, looking like she's about to bolt.

"You're a Christian?" she asks, her voice loud in the quiet apartment. He shakes his head, not to disagree with her statement, but in trying to make sense of what's happening. She points at the Bible and he laughs.

"That was my mom's doing," he tells her, his cheeks reddening slightly. "She thought it might be a deterrent."

"To what?" Bella asks, smiling, more comfortable now that he's answered.

"You know." He focuses on setting down plates and napkins, not looking up at her. "Pre-marital relations."

Bella chokes a little, not sure if she's laughing or not, and Edward risks a glance up at her, his smile wider, a little mischievous, that side of him that flirted with her on her first day of work coming back out.

A knock at the door breaks up the moment, and Edward goes to answer.

She's alone with Edward, a man she doesn't know at all, in his apartment, where anything could happen. Cold fear, almost nostalgic, trickles down her spine. She takes a deep breath.

* * *

><p><em>2006<em>

Walking into the office at school, Bella signs in, an hour late for class. Under "Reason" she writes "church." Jasper had told her the administration couldn't say anything to her about it, otherwise risking being accused of religious persecution. The secretary glances at the page and sighs quietly, but fixes her a slip to take to her teacher without a word.

Bella had been with Jasper that morning, at the house in the field, listening as he played music, singing whatever came to his heart, to his mind, sometimes prophetic, sometimes just a love song to the Lord. An entire room in the house is devoted to prayer, and soaking in the Lord's presence, as they call it. The walls are covered with paper, oil pastels littering the floor; anyone can draw or write whatever comes to them, whatever the Lord gives them.

One entire wall contains a large drawing of a leafless tree, purple light filtering all around it, with the words, "You say it's twilight, I say it's dawn," underneath. Such a beautiful image, resonating so deeply in Bella's heart that she stares at it for hours when she goes into that room, forgetting that she wants to try her hand at her own drawings. The tree, looming over her, empty and bare but not barren, the sky behind it, dark but not night, not the end, but the beginning. Something stirs in her each second she looks at it, feeling like her life is just starting.

As Jasper sang that morning, Bella sketched out a crude drawing of a table, cups of wine on it, loaves of bread filling the space, and a banner hung over top with the word "Love" on it. It had been amateurish, but Jasper gushed over it until Bella felt embarrassed by his praise.

Jasper told her he wasn't coming to school today, so she left without him, knowing her father would be upset if she ditched.

At lunch, Bella faces the regular dilemma of late—her friends are distancing themselves from her, just as she is from them, but Jasper isn't there to sit with either. Holding her head high, she walks to the table where Angela, Alice and Leah sit, sliding her tray onto the table and taking the one empty spot. Leah looks at her like she's an alien, but Angela and Alice both give her small smiles, trying if not totally genuine.

"Where's Jasper?" Leah asks, taking a bite of her chicken sandwich. Bella shrugs, not interested in talking to them about him, or about any of the stuff going on it her life.

"What have you been up to?" Angela asks, her voice kind.

She shrugs again, picking at her own sandwich, not looking up. "Just hanging with Jasper and stuff."

She doesn't see the looks exchanged at the table, or the way Alice nods for Angela to ask more questions.

"What kind of stuff do you guys do?"

When Bella glances at up, Angela fixes her expression into one of innocent curiosity. "Hang out with his family."

"His family?" Alice asks, leaning forward. "Like . . . his parents? Siblings?"

Scratching at her head, Bella looks around the cafeteria. "I mean, not his family-_family_, but, like, his church family."

"So you go to church?" Angela says, nodding her head like she agrees or understands. "That's cool."

"Jasper seems weird to me." Leah sips her Sprite, not trying to be casual or friendly or anything but exactly what she is. "My mom says he's in a cult."

Bella scoffs loudly, then laughs as she tries to imagine Jasper, and his church, being a cult.

"Yeah? I'm sure your _mom_ is totally informed," Bella says back, trying to make her voice as snarky as Leah's, but failing.

Leah's face is stone, her dark eyes glinting with anger, as she stares at Bella for longer than is socially acceptable.

"She is. This girl came in the hospital a couple months ago, right about the same time Jasper moved here. Mom said she was only fifteen, if that, and pregnant. She was sick, thought she had a virus. When the doctor told her she was pregnant, this girl was—"

Leah stops suddenly, shaking her head.

"She was terrified. But when they tried to talk to her about her options, she said she had to go. Said 'they' didn't know she'd left. Said that her baby was a gift from God, that it would further the family line."

"So?" Bella asks, not seeing the point of the story, but not wanting to, either.

"So . . . the girl ran off. Mom did some investigating, made a few calls. Cops went out and visited the place where the girl said she was living. Some old house out in the middle of nowhere. Sound familiar?"

Bella frowns, but doesn't answer.

"But, lo and behold, the girl wasn't there, and they said they didn't know anything about her. Said they'd never seen her."

Laughing, Bella takes a bite of her sandwich, glancing up at Leah once before looking back down at her food, amused. "How in the world does that prove anything?"

Leah slams her soda can down on her tray, causing it to clatter loudly, attracting the attention of neighboring tables. "It proves a lot, but you're too brainwashed to even think for yourself anymore."

Bella's laughter dies, her smile dying instantly and turning to a scowl. "Jasper told me this would happen."

"Jasper sees the future now?" Leah's always known how to poke-poke-poke until her prey is squirming, fighting and begging for freedom. But Bella won't let her corner her, not anymore.

"He said other people wouldn't understand. Wouldn't get the urgency of the times. You're all fools." Bella stands, glaring down at her former friends. "We live in the world, but we're supposed to be separate from the world. Set apart. You won't realize what you're doing until the day He comes, and it'll be too late."

She turns, walking away, storming out of the cafeteria, all eyes on her. Her little speech was louder than she anticipated, and the whispers and giggles left in her wake make her ears burn, her face flushing.

Bella doesn't stop when she reaches the hallway, or the double door leading outside, or the parking lot, or her truck. She doesn't stop until she reaches that old house in the middle of nowhere, needing a refuge, needing comfort, needing Jasper and needing God.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Happy Monday._**

* * *

><p><strong><strong>_2006_

Charlie's sitting at the foot of the stairs when Bella finally comes home. It's late, much later than he usually stays up. His are clasped, his lips pursed, a punishment trying to form in his mind.

Bella pauses, a deer caught in the headlights, waiting.

"Where were you?"

"With Jasper."

"Are you sleeping with him?" Bella laughs at the expression on Charlie's face.

"That's not even—it's not like that."

"I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to think, Bella. You leave early in the morning, stay out late, barely even go to school now." Bella flinches. "The principal called. In twelve years, you only missed seven days of school. Now, in three months, you've missed sixteen."

Bella looks at her toes. Truthfully she didn't realize she'd missed so many days of school, but she couldn't bring herself to really care.

"They're talking about truancy court and all kinds of things if you don't get your act together," he says as he stands, his hands coming to rest on his hips. "It's a hell of a good thing your grades were always so high, otherwise you probably wouldn't graduate."

"I'm eighteen," she tells him suddenly, a scowl on her face. "I don't even have to go."

Charlie waves his hand, scoffing at her threat. "You're not dropping out of school. What would you do? Huh?"

"You don't understand anything!" she suddenly shouts, the teenage girl coming out of her. She's riled up and angry, ready to be out from under her father's thumb. "Why are you pretending to care all of a sudden? You've never even noticed me, and now you want to be a parent?"

Charlie's taken aback by her words, so much so that she is able to physically push him aside to run up to her room.

"It's too late!" She slams the door behind her, locking it immediately. She flops face down onto her bed, her fists beating into the mattress. Her blood is boiling and she doesn't even know why. She hadn't done anything wrong, yet her father, out of the blue, is turning into a dictator.

Words, whispered to her earlier, days before, weeks before, by Jasper, come to her mind. The community loves her and wants her to join them. She'd been putting him off because of school and her father, but now Bella's starting to think there's no reason for her to stay here, to keep going through the torture of school and living under Charlie's roof. There is so much more out there for her. It's right at her fingertips, living together, loving God, worshipping and singing and just being, all the time.

It's the middle of the night when Bella's shoes creak on the stairs, alerting Charlie to her presence. By the time he gets downstairs, Bella's gone.

* * *

><p><em>2012<em>

When Bella finally gets home from Edward's, she's exhausted, but too keyed up to sleep. Her mind keeps whirling around, thoughts and feelings and dreams moving too quickly for her to rest. Her entire life has changed; she has friends—or, at least, a friend—she has her own apartment. She's kept her job for over two months. Things are falling into place.

Giving up on the charade, she gets out of bed and walks over to the small dresser Edward had brought her. On top was a small box, cheap, wooden, nondescript, but inside were her most valuable belongings.

A letter perched on top is what she's after, and as she sits down and reads over it, smoothing the creases from where it was folded, she allows herself to think of her father. The letter in her hands was sent to her several months ago, when she first got to the shelter. She still didn't know how he found her, but he sent her a note, saying he loved her and hoped she'd talk to him. He had wanted her to come home, or at the very least just let him know she was okay.

She hadn't ever let him know she was okay. Because she hadn't been. Until today.

She finds a spare piece of paper tucked into the phone book left in one of the kitchen cabinets and begins to tell him about her new life.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello, readers! I got a flood of new alerts last night, so thanks to all of you who are taking a chance on this little fic o' mine. Also, I should tell you all, this is unbeta'd, so obviously all the mistakes are mine. I have other projects going on now, so this is something to keep me going and keep me sane, and I just post what I write without having it edited. Hopefully the errors don't pull you out of the story.**

* * *

><p><em>2006<em>

Bella wakes up slowly, her eyes blinking against the bright morning light washing over her from a window next to her bed. At first she doesn't know where she is—her sheets are softer than this, the window on the opposite wall—but then she remembers sneaking out of her house in the early hours of the morning and driving to the farm house in the woods.

Jasper was happy to see her, immediately offering her food and a place to sleep. Two other mats fill the room she sleeps in, both currently empty but with covers strewn over them. Her back aches from the thin "mattress" she slept on, but all in all, she feels okay.

She doesn't want to think about her father, or how he must feel right now, after realizing she'd run.

Worry pierces her heart, blooming into an uncomfortable anxiety as she pictures a showdown of sorts, her father coming out to take her away, or at the very least, the truck he bought for her, and having to side with Jasper and her new family.

Pushing aside those thoughts, she makes her way downstairs, finding a small group in the kitchen, their plates already empty. Jasper's there with his wide, toothy smile, but the pastor is also there, looking so pleased to see Bella in his house.

She's had little direct contact with Carlisle, even in the all the times she's come out to the house, but he immediately gives her a fatherly hug.

"We're so glad to have you," he tells her, holding her shoulders and dipping his face to look her directly in the eye. "Let us know what we can do. We're your family now."

Bella smiles but can't help but feel a bit of unease in the pit of her stomach. Carlisle is nice—too nice, almost—but something about his eager demeanor makes her wary. She notices the iris in his left eye has a strange spot of brown, surrounded by green, before fading into the regular blue. It's odd looking, probably just a birthmark, but almost looks like a black hole trying to take over his eye.

Shaking her head to dispel her morbid, mixed up thoughts, she nods in agreement and settles in for breakfast.

Jasper gives her a tour of the house, pointing out various bedrooms, making sure Bella knows everyone's names, and trying to make her feel welcome.

After she's seen the entire house, and walked the perimeter of the property line outside, Bella feels a sense of relief, a knot in her stomach loosened until it's no longer tied. At first she doesn't know what she was worrying about, but when she lays down that night after a day full of community, food, and worship, she comes to the realization that a part of her believed Leah and was looking for the young pregnant girl.

But she hadn't seen anyone that fit the description, and as the last vestiges of doubt trickle away, she finds herself deliriously happy to be a part of something bigger, something greater than herself. She falls asleep with a smile on her face.

* * *

><p><em>2007<em>

The cold winter air takes Bella's breath for a moment as she steps out onto the front porch. An ache begins to rattle in her bones from the frigid temperature, and she berates herself as she crosses to the clothes line where garments are hanging frozen, swaying slightly in the brisk wind.

Had she known it would be so cold, she would've retrieved the items last night, but she didn't. Now her work is nearly doubled and will cut into her morning devotional time.

Stepping back inside with her laundry basket in her arms, she meets Carlisle in the living room. He gives her a reproving look, shaking his head at the clothes she carries, but then sighs and rubs at his forehead. Stepping closer, he kisses her temple, his lips lingering, the baby hairs along her hairline sticking to his wet mouth. His hand gently runs across her shoulder blade before he walks away.

"It's alright," he tells her. She exhales loudly as she moves through the house, making her way back to the cramped laundry room and setting the basket down roughly.

Jasper appears out of nowhere, his eyes concerned, his hands comforting as he gives her a hug. She squeezes him a little too tight, and when she turns her head up, her lips seeking something she hasn't had before, he pushes her back, keeping her at arm's length.

"Bella," he says, admonishing her, guilt and heat creeping up her face, prickling at her skin and making her want to hide from him. "You know that's not allowed."

She does know, and she isn't sure why she pushed it, but a part of her is still so lonely, so needy, even in the middle of this crowded house, in this family.

But when she wakes in the middle of the night at the creaking of her bedroom door, she sees Emily creeping back into bed, a delighted grin on her face, a secret in her eyes, and Bella wonders where she was, who she with, and when she'll get the same opportunity.


	9. Chapter 9

**Here's another one for you. BelleDean helped clean this up for me.**

* * *

><p><em>2012<em>

_Dear Dad,_

_Sorry it's taken me so long to write back. As you can see from the return address, I'm still in Oregon, but I got my own apartment. Everything's fine here. I have a job. I'm making friends. I'm doing normal stuff. If you want, you can write again and let me know how you're doing. I also got a prepaid phone (number's at the bottom) so you can call. If you want. _

_I'm sorry it's been so long, period. I'm not ready to come back to Forks, but maybe someday. _

_Love,_

_Bella_

With a final glance, Bella folds up her letter, realizing she doesn't have an envelope or a stamp to send it. She grabs her wallet and her keys and heads out early so she has time to walk to the post office before work.

When Bella hurries into the café, she's already ten minutes late. She apologizes to Greg and immediately gets to work, hoping to make up for lost time somehow. He waves his hand dismissively, assuring her it's fine, but she feels terrible for making him wait.

She works alone for the first two hours of her shift. She knows that Edward's scheduled to close with her, and she can't help but glance nervously at the door, waiting for him to show. A group of giggling high school girls walk in, taking their precious time ordering complicated frozen drinks.

The whir of the blender distracts Bella, so when Edward touches her elbow in greeting, she jumps and nearly hyperventilates on the spot. Edward looks contrite but also has to bite his lip to keep from laughing. As Bella turns off the blasted machine, she hears snickers behind her; the high school girls are not as tactful as Edward. He shoots them a glare though, Bella has to smile at his chivalry.

Edward helps her make the young girls' drinks and then freezes them out, effectively pushing them out the door. Bella notices how their eyes linger on him, how they stand straighter and lift their chins and stand to accentuate their tiny hips, but he doesn't seem to see them.

The next three hours pass quickly as they chat about anything and everything—pertaining to Edward, that is—from school to family to his childhood. She's evasive when he asks about her, revealing only surface things, like her favorite color or her favorite time of year. Blue and autumn.

Locking up at the end of the night, Edward looks around the parking lot, seeing only his vehicle. "Where's your car?"

"It wasn't mine," she tells him, still being evasive. "It was a loaner."

"How're you getting home?"

"Walking."

"Nope," he says, grabbing her arm and steering her toward his truck. "Nuh-uh."

"Yes." She pulls her arm away and tries to pivot toward the sidewalk, but he runs in front of her and blocks her path.

"It's cold. It's after eleven. I am not letting you walk home."

They stare at each other, neither one wanting to back down. Admittedly, Bella does want a ride home—she had no desire to walk home, but she also doesn't want to be forbidden to do something. She's an adult now and should be able to make her own decisions. But the offer is too tempting, and Edward is just too sweet to ignore.

She sighs and uncrosses her arms, walking reluctantly to Edward's truck. He doesn't see the grin on her face as she hauls herself up into the cab, though, and he doesn't know about the little spark of warmth igniting in her heart.

* * *

><p><em>2007<em>

Voices outside alert Bella to an argument. She listens closely, recognizing one of them immediately, but too afraid to face him. Hiding behind a curtain, Bella peeks out the front window and sees her father talking to Carlisle.

Charlie's face is red, just like Bella's gets when she's angry, his hands on his hips and his lips a thin line.

"I may not have anything yet," he's telling Carlisle. "But I won't stop until I do."

Bella can't see Carlisle's expression, but the relaxed set of his shoulders and the way he holds his arms out wide at his sides signals that he's not nearly as upset as Charlie.

"You're welcome to try," Carlisle says, his voice light and airy, like a joyful laugh might burst forth at any moment.

Charlie turns and walks away, saying nothing more, but spitting angrily on the ground as he goes. A car door slams, out of Bella's line of sight, and as she hears an engine rev, tires spinning in dirt, she tells herself there's no reason to be upset, or to feel homesick. She's already home.


	10. Chapter 10

**Thanks to BelleDean for her superb, super fast beta work. **

* * *

><p><em>2007<em>

"I'll be back in a few weeks, probably," Jasper tells her as he hauls his duffel bag over his shoulder. Bella frowns.

"A few weeks?"

He shrugs. "Maybe a little longer."

"Why?"

"I've got people to visit," he says, his tone purposefully vague as he turns away from her. He hops down the steps of the house, walking to one of the cars the community shares, and drives away.

Bella feels alone now that Jasper's gone, which is strange, considering they don't really spend much time together.

In fact, Bella doesn't spend much time with anyone. The other boys that stay at the house are kept separate from the girls, Carlisle being the only man she comes into contact with besides occasional conversations with Jasper.

Emily, Maggie and Claire stick together, rarely ever including Bella unless they're doing their nightly devotional. Esme, sort of the mother of the group, tries to reach out to Bella, but usually they just end up doing the household chores together. The family she has around her doesn't feel like she thought it would—but then again, she's never really had a family to begin with. She knows Jasper cares about her, and Carlisle as well, and they've saved her from a lifetime of suffering and sorrow, of torment and damnation. She owes them everything.

Two weeks after Jasper leaves, Bella begins to notice how sick Emily is getting. Every time she sees her, the poor girl has just thrown up. After several days in a row of this, Bella begins to get suspicious. She sees the way Carlisle dotes on her suddenly, how Esme tells Emily to rest constantly. She wants to ask what's going on, or at least get confirmation on what she suspects, but knows she won't get an answer.

Carlisle values submission to authority more than anything else. Just like he submits to the Father, the others submit to Carlisle, knowing his wisdom and insight is greater than their own. If he wants Bella to know something, he will tell her. Otherwise she must keep her thoughts and questions to herself.

Jasper's gone for another three weeks after that, during which time Emily disappears. Bella wakes one morning, seeing Emily's mat still made, like no one touched it the night before. After searching the house and the property, she finds the courage to ask Esme where Emily's gone.

"She just left for a while," Esme says, her hands scrubbing the dishes one by one, making sure they sparkle, regardless of the fact that the set doesn't match and most of them are chipped.

"But—"

"That's it, Isabella," Esme says, her voice rising to a tone she never uses. "Leave it alone. She'll be back."

Bella's face burns, anger and humiliation warring within her. She feels like a small child, not a nineteen-year-old, but she's distracted by the sound of a car pulling up outside.

Jasper emerges from the car, walking around and opening the passenger door for a young girl, gripping her hand and not letting go. The girl is pretty, tiny, but looks like she must still be in high school.

There's movement in the back of the car, and another girl emerges, this one holding a baby. Bella steps forward, intent on welcoming Jasper home, but she can't hide her confusion over what she sees.

"This is Maria," Jasper says, gesturing to the girl at his side.

"Maria," Carlisle says from somewhere behind Bella, startling her. "Welcome."

"We're betrothed." Jasper beams at Maria at his side while Bella gapes like a fish. He suddenly looks at Carlisle, nodding and amending his statement. "We would like to be. We've both prayed and know that we're meant to be together. It's God's will."

Carlisle nods, walking forward and embracing Maria tightly. "I'll seek His word, but I already feel that this is right. Congratulations, Jasper."

The girl holding the baby slowly approaches, and Carlisle gives her a hug as well. He dips down and kisses the baby on the head before turning and looking at Bella, beckoning her forward.

"This is Tanya," he says, his arm still wrapped around Tanya's shoulder. She's pretty, maybe Bella's age, but blonde and willowy. "And this is Kate."

Bella's unsure what's expected of her, so she gives Tanya a hug and leans down to coo at Kate in her arms. Kate's an adorable, drooling mess, but Bella's smile falls from her face when she sees the strange dark spot, like a birthmark, on the iris of one of Kate's blue eyes. Hiding her reaction, Bella looks down at her feet, nodding genially.

"Nice to meet you both," she tells the, then turns and says the same to Maria. All around her everyone is delighted, smiles wide and genuine, chatting happily, but Bella feels like her world shifted just slightly on its axis. Everything looks a little different to her, and she just wants to get away from them to try to sort it out on her own.

As she lies down that night on her mat in her even more crowded bedroom, she realizes her family isn't exactly what she thought. And she doesn't know what to do about that.

Within a week, Jasper and Maria are "married." The ceremony is performed by Carlisle, with no legally binding papers or certificates, but it's official to the group. Bella smiles at them, clapping after the two take communion together, helping to serve cake at the "reception," but she can't smother the feeling stirring in her gut that something's not right.


	11. Chapter 11

**Happy Friday! Alerts were sort of wonky yesterday, so if you didn't get an alert, go back a chapter, because I did update yesterday as well.**

**We're at about an Orange Creep-O Alert with this one.**

**Thanks to BellaDean for her beta'ing expertise.**

* * *

><p><em>2012<em>

On Wednesday night, Bella's scheduled to close by herself. It's the first night since she moved that she'll have to walk home so late, alone, but she's determined to do it.

Edward, however, has other plans. He shows up just before Bella locks the door, claiming he needed a study break, casually mentioning that he has time to drive her home.

Bella rolls her eyes and hides her smile; she's pleased that Edward makes such an effort to help her out, even if a part of her still wants to do things on her own. He waits around as she closes the café, but not by choice—she refuses to let him help her do her job since he's not getting paid for it.

Once in Edward's truck, the drive goes by quickly. Too quickly, in Bella's opinion, but with no traffic on the road and only a mile's distance to go, she expects nothing else. Surprisingly, Edward shuts off the ignition when he parks in front of her apartment. It's so dark in the cab; one of the overhead lights in the parking lot is out, leaving Bella and Edward shadowed. She feels something, a thrill, a warm tingle in her stomach immediately turning to butterflies.

Edward stares at her for a moment before leaning closer, slowly, so slowly, and Bella's frozen. He inches nearer, his eyes darting from hers to her lips, and just before he kisses her, she turns her face slightly, his lips finding purchase on her cheek instead. If he's disappointed, he doesn't show it. Leaning into him, she reveals that while she wasn't ready to kiss him, she still wants to be close to him.

They stay like that for several seconds, heads tipped together, face to face. He moves a tiny bit, the short stubble on his face rubbing against her, igniting a spark within her she hadn't felt in a long time. Her heart's nearly beating out of her chest, and she feels like she has to do something, every cell in her body screaming for her to reciprocate in some way. She kisses him right at the corner of his mouth, heat flooding through her, going places she'd long ignored.

Breathing the same air, neither pulls away until a car door slamming jolts them apart. One of Bella's neighbors is hurrying inside, oblivious to the couple in the truck so close to sharing their first kiss. Bella feels bashful suddenly, keeping her face hidden, her head turned down, as she reaches for the door handle.

Edward stops her with a light touch to her cheek, his fingers smoothing across her skin, pushing her hair out of the way. Gently, so gently she can barely feel it, he kisses her once more at her temple. She shivers, the good kind, and pulls her eyes to his but can barely keep them there. Whether it's the darkness in the cab or just Edward, it looks like there's a certain glimmer in his expression, a hunger, an ache.

Bella's familiar with that ache, as she's felt it for most of her adult life.

She smiles, sweet and shy. "Good night."

"Good night," he replies, watching her go, still leaning over the seat, feeling the warmth her body left behind.

Inside her apartment, Bella closes the door behind her, locking up and sliding down to the floor immediately. She's positively giddy, the smile never leaving her face, and she squeals like a teenager. It feels so good she does it again. She's happy for the first time in so long she doesn't know what to do with her energy.

Jumping up, she rummages around in the kitchen, deciding to heat up some hot chocolate, curl up on her borrowed futon, and relive that moment with Edward over and over.

She doesn't want to believe in any type of destiny, or some omnipotent creator watching over her, orchestrating the events of her life, but she can't help but think she was meant to meet Edward. It feels like it was fate, kismet, whatever, and she can't fight it.

* * *

><p><em>2007<em>

The events of the past month are enough to make Bella feel aimless and confused. With Emily's disappearance, Tanya turning up with Kate, and Jasper's strange new marriage to Maria, she's left bewildered and feeling like life is moving all around her, but never changing her. She's a rock in the river, the water flowing swiftly past, diverting around her and never affecting her.

Out of boredom and the desire for a purpose, she goes to Carlisle one day, pleading for more to do.

"I thought maybe I could get a job," she tells him, keeping her eyes down.

Carlisle sighs. "Bella," he begins, waiting for her to look up at him. He smiles kindly. "It's been a year, but you're still so new. Maybe . . . in a few months, you can go with Jasper on one of his trips. But you're not ready to work yet. Maggie was here for three years before she was ready."

Bella's forehead creases, uncertain what he's saying.

"The world out there—they don't understand us. They can't because they don't know God like we do. You're still a fawn, you see? Your legs are shaky. You're not ready to venture back out."

Nodding, Bella agrees. Carlisle knows what's best; he's the Chosen One, the patriarch.

"We'll see about you going with Jasper sometime soon, though," he says, standing from his seat and walking over to her, his hand running across her shoulder. "Your purpose is yet to be revealed. But His plans for you are great."

He kisses her forehead and embraces her. She feels his breath tickling the hair around her ears, the warmth of his skin seeping into hers, and she relaxes into it. Carlisle's always been affectionate, but also careful around her. Bella's so lonely, so confused, she can't help but melt into him. His hands sweep up her back, into her hair, gently massaging her scalp, his chest and hips pressed into her. His entire body is lean, strong, surprisingly muscled for a pastor.

After several long moments, he takes a deep breath, one hand caressing down her back, low, low, until it reaches the hem of her pants. His fingers slip under the fabric, so light she barely feels it, tracing her soft skin. With another deep breath, he presses her tighter to himself, his hand sliding lower, grazing the top of her panties. She's startled but it also feels so good to be held she doesn't mind.

He pulls away slowly, his hand moving to her waist while the other cups her cheek. With a smile, he kisses her forehead again, his fingers trailing down her jaw, down her throat, touching her collarbone. As he moves away, his hand sweeps down, brushing the top of her breast, sending a jolt through her entire body, flames licking through her, burning everywhere.

A strange wanting bubbles within her, but the moment is over; Carlisle's out of the room, leaving Bella alone with a desire she's never felt before.


	12. Chapter 12

**Happy Monday, everyone! Hello, readers new and veteran. Thanks to BellaDean for beta'ing this chapter.**

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><p><em>2007<em>

It's the middle of the night. Bella can't sleep; the rain pattering against the old roof is too loud, the constant drip-drip-drip leaking through the ceiling and into a rusty bucket in the corner becoming torture.

Bella's loneliness has peaked over the past few days. Jasper's gone on another trip, but she didn't get to go with him like Carlisle said she might. No one even speaks of Emily anymore. Maria is settled in the community, but she and Bella have never grown close.

Tanya sleeps in Emily's old bed, Kate bundled up on the floor next to her mat, surrounded by rolled up blankets and old throw pillows. Maggie snores quietly from the opposite wall, the rain lulling her into a deep sleep. Only Bella remains awake, as far as she knows.

She eventually gets up, tiptoeing across the room even though her footsteps are drowned out by the raging storm outside. Walking down the hall, each step is stilted, waiting to catch someone or for someone to catch her. The wraparound hallway is lined with bedroom doors, and as Bella approaches the door at the end, the door to Carlisle's room, she finds herself unable to move away.

How long she stands there, staring at a door that doesn't move, she can't say. When she places her ear against the wood, her hand resting on the doorknob, she pauses, listening. She can't hear anything inside the room, no breathing or talking or rustling. The rain is loud, but most likely Carlisle's asleep, making no sound for her to hear.

Her heart's beating fast, too fast and too high, and way up in her throat, making her ears ring. She's warm all over, just imagining what would happen if she opened the door, if she stepped inside, if she walked over to the bed, saw his blonde hair and his strange eyes and reached out, moving the sheets and blankets lower, then a little lower, getting closer . . .

She shakes her head, pulling herself from her trance. The way she tingles, it's shameful, it's dirty and not right, not holy, it can't be. Returning to her room, she lays down, closing her eyes, whispering for forgiveness, for help to fight the feelings brewing inside.

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><p><em>2012<em>

Sun beams down on Bella as she walks to work, a beautiful spring Sunday afternoon settled around her. The lightness in her steps, in her heart, cannot only be attributed to the weather. She knows that when she steps foot in the café, Edward will be there. She hasn't seen him since three nights before, when they shared their almost-kisses in his truck. He isn't working much over the next week as he takes his finals, but she reminds herself that summer is so close, his classes over, and maybe he'll have more time for her.

She can't think of him without getting stupid giddy, and as she opens the door to the café, a smile is already on her face.

Edward's at the counter, waiting on a customer. He doesn't see her at first so she walks to the back to clock in, still smiling to herself as she ties her apron around her waist.

When she goes up front, she notices Edward glance at her in his periphery, angling his body slightly to almost block the customer from her view. Bella vaguely recognizes the girl, remembering seeing her in there before. The girl says something to Edward, a giggle accompanying her words, but Bella can't hear Edward's reply.

Trying to keep busy, Bella checks the levels on the regular drip coffee that's brewed and starts a fresh batch of decaf.

"Text me if you want to come," the girl tells him, attracting Bella's attention. As she watches, the girl smiles, a pretty smile, a seductive smile, but not a smiling-for-the-first-time kind of smile, but one of familiarity, of knowledge. Edward sort of nods and the girl finally leaves, no drink or pastry in her hand.

Bella steps up next to Edward, looking up at him, excitement fluttering in her belly. Maybe she wouldn't have been suspicious if he didn't look so damn guilty when he faced her. If there weren't a redness to his cheeks, a dart to his eyes, maybe she would never have had to ask, "Who was that girl?"

Edward stutters and stumbles over his words, seeming completely un-Edward-like, and Bella's stung. How easily she fell for him, how simply he pulled her in, a fly in his web. Never again would she share or be shared, she had told herself, never again would she be viewed as less than she is. But she's stuck once more on a man that doesn't value her.

She doesn't hear Edward's answer, but she doesn't need to. Fire, anger courses through her, her palm itching with the desire to meet his face, give him a real reason to be red, but she restrains herself.

And after stalking back to the break room, Edward hot on her heels, he grabs her shoulders, turning her, making her look at him. There's panic in his expression, fear in his eyes, and she listens as he speaks because he looks that desperate.

"We had a thing," he says. "A while back. It wasn't serious. I-I had planned on, you know, getting serious with her, but then . . ."

His eyes are focused on her, and Bella waits, holding her breath. When he doesn't continue, she shakes her head, leaning into him without even trying.

"Then what?"

"I met you. I couldn't be with her when I was thinking about you," he whispers, like his secret is so shameful, as if Bella doesn't want to hear his confession. "I haven't talked to her in months. I swear."

She believes him, believes the truth she sees in his eyes. She's been fooled before, but Edward, he's different, there's something more to him, deeper, real. She can see straight into him and knows that he means it.

"I shouldn't kiss you while we're working," he tells her, as his lips get closer to hers. He stops just a breath away, waiting.

"I won't tell," she says, her bottom lip touching his as she speaks and they're both lost in the moment. It's soft and sweet and warm and wet and sticky and short, but it's right. When he pulls away, she smiles. When he hears the bell above the door up front ring, he turns away reluctantly, and she touches her fingers to her lips, reveling in the feeling of rightness settling in her bones.


	13. Chapter 13

**Here you go. Sorry to anyone who reviewed that I didn't reply to - I'm not used to getting 20+ reviews for a chapter, especially when updating frequently. All this work takes place during Mini-GinGin's naptime, so I had to limit the reviews I replied to this time around. I read them all, I promise.**

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><p><em>2012<em>

After a week of stealing kisses, holding hands like teenagers, and generally being sickly-sweet in _like_, Edward begins to push a little more insistently at Bella's guard, wanting to know more about her. She can only evade and distract for so long, and she has a feeling the time to tell Edward about her past is ticking closer and closer, like a bomb about to explode.

They're sitting in his truck outside of her apartment. The cab smells of coffee as they both just worked a six-hour shift together. Edward's pouting, adorable and boyish, but even his joking demeanor can't settle the nerves thrumming through Bella's body.

"I don't even know where you're from," he points out. She sighs, looking out the window, her eyes darting across the façade of the apartment building, noticing the cracks and stains along the siding.

"I'm from Washington," she says. He nods, clearly waiting for more, but not receiving.

"Okay. What brought you to Oregon?" He gestures with his hand, his voice almost patronizing, curious why this girl is such a locked box.

She doesn't answer at first. So many words, thoughts, memories flash through her head. The secrets she keeps are numerous, some harmless, some haunting, and she doesn't know what to tell him yet.

While she doesn't doubt that she likes him, and that her feelings are growing stronger every day whether she sees him or not, she's still not sure she trusts him. And when he finds out more about her—when the normalcy of his life is disrupted by her true stories—she sees no reason for him to stick around. Her whole world is askew, everything she's ever known tilted and wrong-looking because of one choice, one step down a strange path that turned to another, then another, until she was so far from home she couldn't get back.

Did she want to burden him with that? Did she want to give him any part of that?

A secret, a mostly-truth pops into her head. Something to tell him, something simple, something common, sort of, that she could say that might help her find out if he's truly in this or not.

When she turns her head and studies him, she notices the way his lips curl up at the edges, usually so cute, so happy, but now frustrated. Her mouth is dry, her heart beating faster, but she parts her lips, takes a breath, and forces out the words she's testing him with.

"I was married."

His brows scrunch together, his eyes narrow, his nostrils even flare a bit—he opens his mouth but closes it before saying anything. Giving her a peculiar look, he shakes his head.

"Seriously?"

"Yes," she says, clearing her throat, ready for more questions. Questions she may or may not answer.

"For how long?"

"A year."

"Is that why—did you move here to get away from the guy, or . . ." he trails off.

"You could say that."

"Would _you_ say that?"

She considers this. Did she come here to get away from him? Was it her ex-husband she had to get away from? In a way, yes, but in another way, he was but a tiny piece of the puzzle, so miniscule and unimportant that he barely counts. Still, he was part of the tangled web she was caught in.

"Yes. I would."

Silence fills the space between them, swirling and clouding the air, growing heavier, like a humid summer afternoon preceding a thunderstorm. Bella already feels the storm brewing inside of her, her mind raging, stomach churning, pulse dancing and anxiety growing. After another several seconds—right at the point where Bella is going to jump out of the truck—Edward nods, almost to himself, looking at her once again.

"Okay."

"Okay?" she asks. "Does that . . . bother you?"

"I mean, it's a little weird but it's not like you have, you know, kids or anything." He looks away and then back just as quickly. "Right?"

"No kids." She would smile yet that fact doesn't offer the relief it should. Instead of going down that line of thinking, she leans closer to him, her breath bouncing against the stubble on his cheek. "So that doesn't change things for you?"

He smiles, leaning into her and nuzzling, his expression one of contentment. "No. You're still you."

The smile she gives in return is slightly forced, but he doesn't notice, too busy pressing his lips to hers, proving that he's still in. Guilt bubbles up, burning her esophagus. She wonders so often now who she really is. It's hard for her to say if she's still her or not. Edward's assumption opens up so many other questions, but she shuts them down, pressing them back, closing the door, unwilling to open it and let everything spill out just yet.

She kisses him back, her lips tasting of regret.


	14. Chapter 14

**Here you go, folks. Just to forewarn - things are going to just be really creepy from here on out. I'm putting it out there, so don't be surprised when things get weird.**

**BelleDean betas all these, even if I don't remember to say so.**

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><p><em>2008<em>

Another winter sets in, making Bella's bones ache, a constant chill she can never get rid of, and the desolate emptiness outside matches that within her.

She sits in the family room, bundled, hugging her torso, trying to keep any bit of warmth she can. The furnace is out—either broken or with no fuel to run it, she doesn't know—but the others seem to handle the cold better than she.

Maria is warmest of all, round and glowing, another tiny body set into hers to keep her toasty. Jasper stays wrapped around her as well, the two of them, nay, three, a constant unit, both beautiful and annoying.

Emily has yet to return, if she ever will; when Bella first saw Maria's symptoms, she worried the girl would be banished as well, but it was just the opposite. The pregnancy was announced, celebrated, another member of the family coming to them. Doting sisters and loving brothers and a husband and a father all at Maria's side, holding her elbows to steady her, helping her sip from cups, fixing her sandwiches. The girl was getting larger and larger every day, only a couple months left before the baby comes.

Esme is a doula, whether by trade or by opportunity, and while nothing is monitored—no ultrasound pictures, no idea of the gender—the baby is well cared for.

Carlisle walks into the room, tall, proud, handsome, beaming; he has an announcement.

"After the baby comes, and Maria can travel, we're moving to a new house," he tells them, his hands clasped in front of him, excitement evident on his face. "The family's expanding. We need more space."

The others are calm, happy even, but Bella worries about where they'll be going. Even without communicating with her father in two years, there's a comfort knowing he's barely a town away. Her entire life has existed in that town, her friends, her school, her black-and-white picture in the yearbook. A ghost now, surely, to them all, but tethered she still is.

She's so caught up in her own thoughts she misses the rest of Carlisle's message. Knowing there's no point in saying anything, or even wishing for things to be different, she says a silent goodbye to Forks, and to her father.

That night, she's too cold to sleep. The quilts piled on top of her can't stop the shivering, can't keep her muscles from having spasms. Maggie is curled up with Tanya, little Kate tucked in between them, but Bella's proximity to them doesn't help her.

Stripping the covers off of her body, she lies there, arms spread wide at her sides, trying to acclimate, or to just succumb to the frost glittering on the world outside. It could crawl across her skin, chip away until it reached muscle and bone, freeze her forever and preserve her just as she is. Instead she can't stop shaking, so she gets to her feet, walking quickly but quietly to try to get her blood flowing.

Within moments she's standing in front of that door—the door that taunts her, that she stares at every few nights, the door that she traces with her fingertips, her imagination painting pictures of what lies behind it.

So easy, so, so easy it would be to turn the knob and enter. She thinks it every time, considering it, but too paralyzed to act.

This time she does it. This time she creeps across the wooden floor, her feet wrapped in three pairs of socks, so silent, until she reaches the small bed, a form hunched underneath mounds of covers.

She stands there for too long, a voyeur, a Peeping Tom, but she can't make her feet move. Her body and mind are incapacitated, trapped in an unending loop of curiosity and ruin.

As if sensing her presence, smelling her blood like a hound, the body stirs, the blonde head emerges from under the sheets, the strange eyes roving the room until landing on her. He's silent, he's patient, he's watchful, he's assured. His hand appears, touching hers, so light, like air, like the chill in the house. Tracing her fingers with his while her hand rests on her thigh, it's so easy for him to take a circuitous route, to go off road and traverse the untouched, unsearched plains of her thighs, covered with thick garments but trembling nonetheless.

She feels flames, lightning flashes up her legs, licking at her nerves, reaching an apex and throbbing there, an ember to be stoked until it burns too hot. No words are spoken, no thoughts run through her, instead her body becomes a canvas, a journal, a sculpture, on which the art of humanity, of carnal knowledge becomes more than a ghost or a whispered image.

Nothing else happens in that room that night, just the slightest, the barest touch and the heavy breathing of a freezing girl in a room with a smoldering man.


	15. Chapter 15

**Again, creepier and creepier.**

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><p><em>2008<em>

Spring begins to bloom; Bella feels like she's beginning to blossom into something new as well. Since the night she stood by Carlisle's bed, letting him see her, touch her, she's stayed away, but that doesn't relieve her of the new feelings and urges coursing through her body. Her dreams are vivid, desperate, sexual in a way she'd never be able to replicate or even imagine in her waking hours. The blonde hair and the strange blue eyes haunt her every thought. He's like a demi-god, sent to show her the way to holiness, to the kingdom, to life altogether.

Maria and Jasper's baby was born just two weeks before, and everyone's been packing their things, getting ready to move. Bella doesn't yet know where they're going, and while excited, there's a part of her reluctant to say goodbye.

Perhaps knowing this, either by her expression or because he's gifted like that, Carlisle comes to her, pulling her gently aside.

"There comes a time," he says, his mouth close to her ear, his breath hot on her skin. She shivers. "When we must pick up and leave our father and our mother, leave our house, and follow him. He's calling us to another place, and we will be given hundred-fold for our obedience."

Nodding against him, she likes the way his hand lingers on her lower back, the way he gives her special attention. She sees Maggie across the room, watching them, a scowl on her face, and Bella feels a shock of smugness at the other girl's jealousy. She knows she shouldn't, but she can't help it. Carlisle is the Chosen One, yet he's choosing her.

That night, Bella opens the door, walks across the wooden floor, and comes to stand at his bedside once more. In a matter of moments, he's gotten up from his bed, running his hands down her arms, across her belly, dipping in and over her curves, guiding her back to the mattress. The heavy covers from months before are no longer necessary, and Bella's skin is sticky with sweat as she lies prone before him.

His hands hover just over her as he kneels by the bed, moving over her limbs but never touching. In the dim light of the room, she sees that his eyes are closed, that his lips are moving. He's praying for her, over her, as she lays there, anticipation rising to her skin, pushing out, begging him to touch her anywhere, everywhere.

Fingers trace along her face, touching her forehead, the bridge of her nose, her cheeks and then her lips. One fingertip just barely slips in, touching the warm wetness at her teeth, then slipping away before she really registers it. As his hand moves downward, his palm grazes the tip of her breast, her nipple hardening further, also straining to meet his hand.

"You're pure, Bella?" he asks, his voice so low she barely hears him. She nods, biting her lip, trying to keep from trembling with want, every vein in her body buzzing with need.

"I could tell," he says, his hands stopping their circuit, resting on her stomach. He moves, sliding onto the bed next to her, his body pressed against hers but not on top of her. His hands don't move to where her body says they need to go, and as she squirms, trying to force it, he scolds her, "Patience."

His face hides in her neck, his torso, his legs pressed against her side; she's aware of every movement of his body, the way his hand finally slips lower, moving over a sensitive spot, making her moan, making her legs fall open.

"Shh," he whispers. She shakes, oh, does she shake, and she can't stop. Her heart is beating too fast, surely it will give out from exhaustion. His hand moves away, a strange burning frustration taking over her body, but she's distracted when he presses his face even deeper into her hair, a muffled groan leaving his mouth.

There's something heavy in the air, pressing down on her, almost suffocating. Carlisle moves over her, adding to the weight, but it's glorious, it's divine. His lips are so perfect, so plump, right there and he kisses her places she never thought to be kissed and she shivers even more.

When a feeling of rocketing euphoria crashes over her, her mind lifted to another plane, her body singing and flying, she thinks to herself, _Is this God? Or something else?_

"You'll be rewarded," he says to her as he lies next to her. "For being pure."

She nods, her eyes heavy, her limbs lethargic, but he urges her to get up and go back to her room. She wants to argue, she wants to stay with him, curled up in the warmth and the sheets that smell of him, but she listens to what he tells her. He's the one that knows.

Like a zombie she makes it back to her room, falling heavily onto her mat, lying still for a few moments before rolling over. When she does, she notices Maggie sitting up in her bed. No words are spoken, and it's too dim to see Maggie's eyes, but the tension in the room chokes Bella, a thrill of fear rushing to her heart, pushing out the former delight.

Maggie lies back down. Bella rolls over onto her side, facing the opposite direction. Her eyes stay open as she's no longer able to sleep.

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><p><strong>For any interested, I'm basing a lot of this on Michael Travesser  Wayne Bent, leader of the Strong City cult. Virgins would come and lie with him at night, many underage, and he was eventually convicted on charges related to this, but the conviction was overturned last year. He claimed it was all part of a healing ritual. The New Mexico Attorney General is appealing the overturned conviction, I believe.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Happy Friday, y'all. Alerts aren't working, so make sure you didn't miss yesterday's update.**

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><p><em>2012<em>

Nervousness tingles Bella's ears, pinking her cheeks and making her fidgety. Glancing repeatedly at the clock, stirring repetitively at the marinara sauce on the stove, and tugging relentlessly at her dress, she's driving herself crazy.

She's invited Edward over to her apartment for the first time since they started . . . doing whatever they were doing. Last weekend, she bought herself an old television, a beat-up DVD player, and several two-dollar DVDs. While it wouldn't have been much to anyone else, she's enjoyed the luxury of watching movies late at night by herself, just because she wants to. Now that she's caught up on bills and able to put some money away into savings, she's been splurging a bit on herself.

Edward knocks quickly at the door before opening it and walking in. She jumps a little even though she was expecting him, and takes the six-pack of beer from his hands gratefully. He immediately notices the gigantic, ancient-looking TV perched precariously on an end table and can't help but laugh.

The smile on Bella's face falls when she realizes what he's laughing at, but she tries to hide her embarrassment by going into the kitchen and putting the garlic bread in the oven. Edward's chuckles continue, and Bella feels something else bubbling up, something hot like embarrassment but a lot more abrasive, an anger that knocks at her insides, demanding to be let out.

She takes a deep breath, turns, and walks the few steps across the room where Edward is fiddling with the TV.

"What's so funny?" she asks, her voice controlled, but just barely.

"I haven't seen one of these in—"

"Well, you know what? My Mommy isn't around to buy me stuff! I had to save up for that," she tells him, her voice getting louder and louder, reaching a high pitch that makes Edward flinch. His eyes are wide, his face turning red just like hers, and he at least looks a little ashamed. "Maybe you should just go."

His jaw drops. "Uh—no, no, look, I'm sorry—"

"I don't feel like having you here. I thought you realized I . . . my situation. I was wrong. I won't let you come into my home and make me feel like there's something wrong with me."

"Bella, I would never do that. I'm sorry, honestly." She eyes him for a second. His shoulders relax; he thinks he's won.

"Thank you for your apology," she says, trying to sound strong and confident. Now that her initial anger is deflating, she feels ridiculous, like a little girl playing house. "Now, please leave."

He's shocked, that's easy to see, but Bella averts her eyes so she doesn't have to see the look on his face. She gestures toward the door, but he still doesn't move. With a huff, she walks over and opens the door, waiting for him to go. As he steps over the threshold, he stops and looks at her.

"I'll get out of your apartment, but I'm not leaving. I'll be right out here," he tells her. "Come get me when you've calmed down."

His comment brings back a little ire, so she glares and slams the door after him. Walking to the kitchen, she starts throwing everything away, too mad to even eat. The bread smells burnt and when she opens the oven door, smoke billows out, causing her smoke detector to go off.

Edward's back in a flash, making sure she's okay, but she's mad and humiliated and just wants to be alone, so she screams for him to leave over the piercing sound of the alarm. She waves a pillow back and forth in front of the detector until it stops beeping, and the silence of the apartment is suddenly overwhelming.

Slumping to the floor, she just starts crying. She's upset that she's poor, that she's got no family, no friends, and that Edward isn't really that special but instead just like any other guy. She hates her memories and her thoughts and all the feelings that crash around her every day. She hates that she can't seem to get anything right, that she's living in this world she wasn't a part of for so long and that she doesn't have a clue what she's doing.

She hates Carlisle. She hates Jasper. She hates herself.

The front door opens, illuminating the now dark room, and Edward's shoes come into view. He squats in front of her but she buries her face further into her hands, not wanting him to see her. Settling beside her, he waits for a long time, until her tears are dried up, to speak again.

"I'm an asshole," he says, leaning closer to her ear. "An idiot. I'm so, so sorry. Please don't say I ruined this already."

She sniffs loudly, her nose so stuffed up she can barely breathe. Shaking her head, she makes herself look up at him. He looks contrite, truly sorry, and she tries to remind herself that he's just a twenty-year-old guy, and they really are idiots. He can't help it. The thought makes her laugh a little, and Edward's lips curl up into a smile in response.

"I'm sorry I kicked you out." She's not entirely sorry, not really, but does feel a tiny bit of guilt.

"I deserved it." He puts his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. "I never, ever want you to feel like . . . you shouldn't be proud of what you've accomplished. I don't know everything, and that's okay, but no one should make you feel like that."

She nods against his chest, her face feeling dry and tight from all the tears she cried.

"Forgive me?" he asks, his voice sweet and soft and so close to her ear.

"Yes." She squeezes him once before pulling back, looking over her shoulder at the remnants of dinner; there's no way she can salvage it.

"Why don't we crack open the beer, and you can show me your new TV?" Edward suggests, getting up and helping her to her feet.

Bella agrees and sets up a movie for them to watch together. She glances over her shoulder, her eyes glued to Edward as he rifles through her kitchen drawers, looking for a bottle opener. Maybe he's not perfect. But that's what she wants. Supposed "perfection" never worked out for her before, anyway.


	17. Chapter 17

**Happy Monday, readers! **

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><p><em>2012<em>

"I've never even heard of this," Edward says, flipping the DVD case over in his hands. "What made you get it?"

Bella smiles lazily, leaning into his side and resting her head on his shoulder as she points at the front cover.

"It had all these little award thingies," she points out. He laughs and nods.

"It does have a lot of award thingies." Setting the case down, he turns to examine her, narrowing his eyes with a bemused smile. "You're drunk."

She shakes her head and giggles. "Maybe. I haven't ever . . . you know, had alcohol before."

He looks surprised but at the same time, not; she's different than anyone else he knows, anyone he's ever known, so nothing really surprises him anymore. "How'd you get to twenty-three years old and never drink?"

Her giggles slowly fade, the smile on her face replaced with something much sadder, something that makes Edward's heart ache in his chest, and all he wants to do is make it go away—well, and maybe unlock some of Bella's secrets.

Hiding her face, she pushes against his body until he lies back and she curls up against him. She's quiet, staring at the small orb bouncing around her television screen while the movie is paused. When she speaks, Edward strains to hear her.

"I'm sorry about earlier," she whispers. "I'm so embarrassed."

"Don't be. I was a dick."

"Not that, the . . . crying. I've never done that before," she says. He wants to respond, but he feels the heaviness in the room, anticipation and suspense building, a guarded border about to be crossed. He waits, and is rewarded for his patience. "Where I was before, I couldn't really . . . I've been suppressing everything for a long time."

He hums against her hair, squeezing her just a little bit tighter, letting her know that he's there, that he's listening, that he's accepting her.

"It's been so hard to be out here again. Feeling things and trying to do this." Slowly, so slowly, she turns her head and looks up at him, her eyes glassy but no tears falling. "I don't know what I'm doing."

Looking into her eyes, seeing something more than just a lonely, shy girl, Edward begins to see the absolute desperation for normalcy, for stability, for fairness. "None of us know what we're doing."

Her eyes dart back and forth, searching for truth, trying to detect any sliver of deception, but all she sees is dark green and sincerity. All she sees is Edward. Sighing, she snuggles into him, her arms wrapped tightly around his torso, closing her eyes.

"I want to tell you about me," she says. "I just need a little more time."

"I know," he tells her, kissing her forehead, shutting his eyes as well. "Just tell me one thing."

"What?"

"You're not still married are you?"

She scoffs quietly. "No."

"So I don't have to worry about some crazy ex-husband showing up and kicking my ass?" he asks, truly curious but trying to lighten the mood as well.

"No. No one misses me." Her voice trails off, sad, but she's not really that sad. She's glad no one misses her where she came from, where she ran away from. She hopes they forget she ever existed.

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><p><em>2008<em>

The gravel driveway seems to go on forever. Bella's about to fall back asleep after already napping for two hours of the journey, but a house finally comes into view. They'd traveled across the state, over the mountains and further north, ending up almost in Canada, in a rural area where there didn't seem to be any other houses at all.

Looking over the large, sprawling home, she almost misses the group of people standing in front of it, but then she can't look away.

A man around Carlisle's age stands point, his long dark hair hanging loose around his shoulders, a teenage boy with similar hair and build at his side. Two girls, one blonde and one brunette, stand close together, a little boy in the brunette's arms. Another girl with hair the color of fire is hidden behind the girls, head ducked, shoulders hunched as if trying to become invisible.

Walking out of the house behind them are two more boys—no, men, really—one with short curly hair and the other with a shaved head. Bella's heart beats faster, but she's not even sure why.

Then another person appears, a person she knows already: Emily, with a bundle wrapped in her arms.

Anxiety prickles along the back of Bella's neck, telling her to run, to get away, not to trust these new people. They're not her family. But she does none of that. She gets out of the car, smiling like she's supposed to, shaking hands when she's told to.

Vera, the dark-haired girl holding a cherub with a toothy smile, is especially friendly, giving Bella a hug. The girl next to her, her sister though they look nothing alike, is named Rose, and is as beautiful as her name suggests, but distant, her icy blue eyes far off even as she greets Bella.

Victoria says hello, the flames of her hair waving erratically around her head, before stepping back, keeping her head down still.

There's a strange tension when Carlisle greets the elder man—Marcus—like they're determining who the Alpha is, but Marcus defers to Carlisle, allowing him to take charge and tell them what will be happening that evening.

The boys are all friendly, yet still keeping their distance. Royce, Marcus's son, looks mischievous, his lecherous gaze making Bella uncomfortable. Riley, the boy with the shaved head, is laid back, reminding Bella of some of the stoners she went to high school with.

She's introduced to Emmett last, and he seems to have been expecting her. His dimples are charming, negating the thick muscles of his arms, the large hands that so easily could squeeze, strangle and crush.

Jasper and Maria seem to know them all already, greeting everyone familiarly. Carlisle sweeps Emily up into a tight hug, kissing the baby in her arms, a two-month old boy named Sam.

There's so many of them, Bella feels out of place, lost in the crowd. She wonders if Carlisle will still look at her, if he'll show favor to the new girls over her. She wonders if maybe Rose or Vera will be friendlier to her, that maybe she'll find an even better family here. As they walk inside, Emmett stays close to Bella, not talking or touching but lingering, looming inevitably because of his height.

Dinner is prepared within an hour, Bella assisting as much as she can. When they sit down, the blessing asked by Carlisle, she picks at her cole slaw until someone at the front clears their throat.

"I have good news to share," Carlisle says. Bella frowns. How could he possibly have news already? "We have another wedding to prepare for. God has spoken, and two more will be united."

"Emmett," he says, holding his hand out and gesturing for Emmett to stand. "And sweet Bella."

She doesn't react at first, so surprised by his proclamation, and it takes several seconds for his words to sink in.

"So long you've waited, but the Lord has found favor with you," he tells them. "We'll have the ceremony a week from today."

Biting her tongue, she doesn't ask any questions, doesn't make any accusations, she just accepts what he's saying because she doesn't know how to argue. If Carlisle is the prophet, and the Lord has spoken, how can she counter him? Is this what she's really been waiting for all this time? Perhaps this is the thing that will finally make her happy.

Gaining courage, she looks at Emmett and smiles.

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><p><strong>This fic is up for fic of the week over at The Lemonade Stand, one day of voting left, so go vote your little hearts out, you know, if you want: tehlemonadestand (dot) blogspot (dot) com<strong>


	18. Chapter 18

**Here you go. BelleDean betas.**

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><p><em>2008<em>

The night before Bella is to marry Emmett, Esme pulls her aside, bringing her into her room, helping her get dressed.

"It's part of the ritual," Esme explains to her as she intricately braids Bella's hair and wraps it in a bun. "A blessing for you and your new husband."

Bella's insides are trembling, like an earthquake under her skin, but she hides it on the outside. While she's spent time with Emmett this past week, and she's begun to really like him, she's nervous about consummating their marriage. Adding to that , now, is the fact that she's to spend her last night as a single woman with Carlisle.

Lots of reasons are given, plenty of platitudes spouted off by Esme, but only a few words sink in, replaying over and over in Bella's mind. _Only the prophet can break her, only he can draw blood._ She's dressed in black for this dark day, for this death of one life, but tomorrow, in white, she would be new in the eyes of God, joined with her husband, and no more blood shed.

When Esme leaves her at Carlisle's door, Bella's limbs ache from the tension in her body, like the soreness after a car wreck. She takes a deep breath and walks inside.

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><p>Bella takes a sip from the goblet in Emmett's hand, swallowing and smiling up at him. Their communion is finished, signaling the end of the ceremony, and Carlisle announces them joined in a holy union, a bond to be broken only by God himself.<p>

After congratulations and hugs are given, Emmett and Bella are ushered into a small room near the back of a long hallway, a double bed inside and not much else.

"This is your room?" Bella asks, her hands fidgeting. She's nervous and unsure what she should say to her new husband as they stand over their marriage bed.

"No." He begins to unbutton his shirt, and she sees his hands shaking as well. "I bunked with Royce and Riley. This hall is for couples."

She nods, taking in what he's saying but just barely; the majority of her thoughts are centered on the bed in front of her, the sting that still exists between her legs from the night before, and what exactly Emmett expects of her.

His hands startle her, making her jump several inches away, but then they soothe and run tenderly down her arms, helping her undress. When they're both naked, standing before the other, he takes her hand and lays her down. He's over her and his lips touch hers for the first time, hesitant and sweet, and she thinks she might grow to love him one day. As they join, Bella pushes aside thoughts of pain and focuses on the way Emmett's hands can massage and caress her, make her heart beat faster, and just as she begins to feel the pleasure she's supposed to feel, he stills and groans, the effort to hold himself over her too much and he collapses.

He's heavy, his shoulders so broad and his torso so long that her head is trapped beneath his chest, but the weight of him brings her comfort as well. Still joined as one, one being, one soul, she grips his back, holding him tightly to her, a tear coming to her eye.

So much has changed, so many things taken from her, but she's being replenished somehow. God has gifted her with Emmett, her soul mate, her perfect counterpart, and she trusts that he will not lead her astray.

Curling into Emmett's side, she falls asleep, naked and unashamed, pressed against her husband.

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><p><em>2012<em>

Arms are tight around her, making it hard to breathe. The body behind her is too hot, her chest and neck feeling sticky with sweat, and for a moment as she wakes she's afraid she's back in Washington.

Then she recognizes her apartment and her television, and the smell of the man holding her, and she relaxes.

Edward stirs as well, his hands freer and adventurous in his half-sleep state, and as they slip up and cover her breast, she feels a tingle of excitement, of want. Turning in his arms, she kisses his neck, making sure he's really awake. His lips find hers and the two begin a fast progression. Fingers explore, delving and touching and teasing, lips and tongues move down then back up, clothes find their place on the floor, and then—

"Stop, wait," Bella says, breathless, Edward's hands stilling on her naked body, one curved around her thigh, so close to guiding himself inside. It physically hurts him to pause when he's so close, so he scrunches his nose, closes his eyes, and tries to breathe. "I can't . . . I'm waiting."

"Waiting?" His voice is strained, and he holds her a few inches away, the temptation too great when she's touching him in so many places. "For what?"

"I-I don't know," she admits. She knows she's not ready, but she doesn't know when she will be and won't make a promise she can't keep. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he tells her, covering his eyes. "Can you just give me a minute?"

She slips off the couch, feeling embarrassed and exposed as she searches for her shirt. He doesn't watch her, needing to get his mind as far from her soft body as he can so that he can calm down. She goes to the bathroom, and when she comes back, he's clothed and sitting up, holding his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry," she repeats, but he looks up and smiles, shaking his head.

"No, no, it's fine. I just have to take a little time, you know. It's so hard to think," he tells her. She blushes as he talks, even though mere minutes ago they were completely vulnerable to the other.

"I know, but you're the guy, and . . ." she trails off, sitting next to him. He looks puzzled, waiting for her to continue, but she doesn't.

"Okay," he says. "And you're the girl."

Looking at him in the dim light of the room is difficult, so many shadows cast over his features that she can't read easily, but his voice is light and amused.

"I know there are things you need." She whispers this to him as if someone could overhear.

He takes her hand, leaning in and kissing her cheek. "Don't think you owe me anything. Ever."

She nods, turning her head to kiss him a little more thoroughly. When he pulls away, guiding her hair away from her face, he smiles once more. "I should go."

When he's gone, her apartment empty and silent, Bella wishes he were back, wishes in a way that she hadn't stopped him. But she's alone and that's what she sought when she ran away, right?


	19. Chapter 19

**Here you go, guys. Thanks to BellaDean for not only beta'ing, but doing so while traveling. Small time jump here.**

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><p><em>2009<em>

Emmett rolls off of Bella, lying on his back, staring up at the drop ceiling, counting tiles. Bella sees the same thing he does, but she follows the symmetrical lines, intersecting at regular intervals, wondering how far they can go without ending.

Ten months have passed, and Bella's stomach is as flat as it was when she got married, her uterus almost deemed useless. At three months into their relationship, it had still been normal for her to not be pregnant. At six months, concern began, words like "sterile" and "infertile" floating around and the stress began.

For the first months of their marriage, they'd been quite passionate, seemingly always snuggled up in their bed, hidden away in their room, learning and enjoying. But as time wore on, and no child was created, it became nothing but work, a chore to be completed each day.

Esme pulls Bella aside that morning, telling her that in two more months, she'll be handed over to Carlisle to see if Emmett's the problem. Despite remembering the warmth—no, the fire—that came from Carlisle's hands, his mouth, and his loins, she's become attached to Emmett, a dutiful wife, a partner. Imagining lying with Carlisle after being with Emmett for so many months makes her feel dirty, like she's already committed a sin.

But if the group is to be furthered, if they are the chosen ones, then she must find a way to procreate, whether it's by Emmett, or with Carlisle.

The anxiety of the situation is getting to Emmett as well, and some nights, even though they both know they should try, he's unable to. She doesn't judge him, doesn't even mention it; instead she holds him close, his large body awkward as he lays his head upon her chest, hearing her steady heartbeat, wondering if he's failing as a man. Bella's whispered words of assurance do little, and as the days pass and the one-year anniversary of their wedding draws closer, his mood is rotten, his temper short.

Bella's crying as she curls up in their bed alone. Her period came after nearly three months of absence. Six pregnancy tests reported that she wasn't carrying a child, but she'd foolishly hoped anyway. But the blood she found in her underwear that evening dashed her ridiculous hopes instantly.

When Emmett sits, the mattress dipping with his considerable weight, she crawls over to him, grasping his neck, holding on for dear life.

"Please," she whispers, pressing her wet cheek to his throat. "Don't let him take me."

He shakes her off, glaring at her, his eyes full of a new kind of fire, the kind burning with hatred, with repulsion. "Don't say that."

"I love you," she tells him, reaching for him once more. "If you love me, you won't want him to have me, too. I thought I was yours—"

Before she can finish her plea, he smacks her roughly with the back of his hand, busting her lip and knocking her onto the floor. She's shocked, paralyzed with it—Emmett, the gentlest man she's ever met, has struck her. She's managed to turn her own husband against her. If the livid rage in his eyes is any indication, he can't wait to be rid of her.

Biting her lip and tasting iron, she holds back her sob. She folds herself up right there on the floor, making herself as small as she can, and Emmett looks away, unable to face her, unable to see what he's reduced her to.

"Don't question the prophet," he says, rising to his feet and leaving the room, the door shutting quietly behind him, leaving Bella all alone once again. There's a ringing in her ears, a siren telling her to get up, to try to find some strength, but she's too tired. She stays there all night, her husband never returning to their room.

* * *

><p>Two months into her new arrangement, she's still not pregnant. Carlisle insists they keep trying for four more months; if by then, nothing has happened, alternative arrangements will be made for her. Whispers are already going around the property, gossipers speculating that Emmett will be given a new wife, someone to bear his children, and Bella will be left a maid, joining the ranks of Esme and Maggie.<p>

She sees Emmett often, but he never meets her gaze. After sneaking back into their room late one night, and being rejected by the man that was supposed to be her lifelong companion, she's given in to her new situation. Like a servant, she's available to Carlisle at any time of day, a project to be finished, an animal to be trained.

Her prayers are mixed up, contradictory and confused. She asks often for God to give her a child so that her nightmare can stop—perhaps she'll be valued if only she can prove her worth as a woman. But deep in the dark of night, when Carlisle's exhausted and snoring next to her, she asks that God not burden her womb with something of Carlisle's. Her broken ovaries are both a blessing and a curse, the cause of her strife but the only savior she has left in her body.

At the six-month mark, God has heard her prayers, or at least half of them. She's moved into quarters with Maggie, and Rosalie is moved out.

Within a week, a new ceremony takes place, one to join Emmett and his new bride, his lovely Rose, and Bella is all but forgotten. When she watches the blonde beauty stride away on Emmett's arm, she finds a seed of compassion in her heart for the young woman, hoping that she'll be able to give them what they want, that she should never feel what Bella's felt: faulty, inadequate, a waste.

Winter is encroaching once more, but this time, there's no source to warm her. The land is as barren as she, and in the midst of this large family, she's found her place—that of a doormat, used carelessly.

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><p><strong>David Koresh, leader of the Branch Dividian cult (with the big Waco standoff disaster in the nineties) laid down an edict upon becoming the "prophet" that every man should be celibate, apart from him. So he got alllll their wives. And they let him. A very small number did leave because of that, however.<strong>


	20. Chapter 20

**A little mini-fluff to get you guys through.**

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><p><em>2012<em>

Bella wipes her palms on her jeans, so nervous she can barely function. Nice, colonial-style homes fly by, the trees lining the neighborhood shading Edward's truck from the bright sunshine overhead.

As they approach a neat, well-kept house nestled in a cul-de-sac, Edward has to laugh at the look of terror on her face. He takes her hand, pulling it to his lips and kissing her knuckles softly.

"Bella," he says, half-scolding. "It's just lunch."

"I know," she tells him, but her voice cracks, eliciting another chuckle from Edward.

"Okay. Honestly, I wasn't going to tell you this beforehand, but . . ." She nods along, unsure where he's going with this. "I'm adopted—"

"You are?" she asks, her eyebrows lifting halfway up her forehead.

"Yes. I've never known or met my birth mother; she was a teenager when she had me, and it was a closed adoption," he says, shutting off the engine. Bella can hear bird's chirping outside the vehicle, lending to the idyllic setting even more. "Thing is, I don't really look like the rest of my family."

"Okay."

"I didn't think you'd want to meet my family yet, to be honest, so I was a little surprised when you agreed this morning. My brother thought it would be funny to not give you any warning. But I feel kinda guilty already, so."

"So?"

"They're black."

"Oh?"

"You know. African American."

"I know what that is, Edward," she says in a mocking tone, rolling her eyes.

Just then, the front door of the house opens, and a Halle Berry lookalike, but with darker, even more radiant skin, stands on the front stoop, beckoning them inside. Edward helps Bella hop out of the cab of the truck before leading her quickly up the front steps to meet his mother. She's tiny, barely coming up to Edward's chest, and at least a few inches shorter than Bella's petite form. Her hazel eyes seem to glow against her dark skin and they practically dance with happiness as she takes in Bella, giving her a hug instantly.

"I'm Liz," she introduces. "It's so nice to finally meet you."

Edward blushes a bit, but just shakes his head at his mother, a smile still on his face. Liz leads them inside, the smell of lunch wafting from the kitchen and making Bella's stomach growl. A tall man, with cropped, graying hair steps out of a room off the foyer, kindly smiling and holding out a hand for Bella to shake.

"I'm Anthony," he says. "You must be Bella."

She opens her mouth to greet him, realizing belatedly she hasn't yet said a word, but another voice interrupts. Edward's older brother appears, the spitting image of his father apart from his boisterous voice compared to his father's soft tones, and he comes up to give Bella a hug.

"Anthony, Jr. but call me Tony." He releases her to grab Edward, giving him what looks to be a bone-crushing hug. A giggle draws Bella's attention, and she sees a woman who could only be described as a bombshell standing just inside the living room, her skin at least three shades darker than the others, almond-shaped eyes the color of coal, plump lips and the body of a _Victoria's Secret_ model.

"I'm Senna, Tony's girlfriend," she says, pulling Bella closer to her, away from the boys who were beginning to wrestle right in the hallway. Her voice lilts with an accent Bella can't place, immediately captivating her with four words.

"Nice to meet you," Bella spits out, looking around. "All of you."

Edward and Tony finish their roughhousing, their laughter echoing in the small space. Bella raises her voice slightly, trying to talk over the noise. "You have a lovely home."

Liz smiles in appreciation, grabbing Bella's elbow and tugging her down the hall to the kitchen. "Let's get away from these hooligans."

Senna joins them, the women doing some sort of ritual female bonding while they prepare a meal, and Bella tries her best to be social. She's a little unprepared for their questions, but the majority of them are easy to answer: where did she and Edward meet, where is she from, is she in school, etc. Edward walks in, deflecting some of the attention thankfully, standing behind Bella and gently resting his hands on her hips.

Liz's eyes flicker to her son's fingertips as they lightly stroke Bella's skin under her shirt, and Bella stiffens, suddenly feeling awkward like she's disrespecting Edward's parents somehow. She steps away under the guise of washing out a skillet sitting in the sink, leaving Edward frowning and Liz watching curiously.

"Hope you like curry," Liz states as the family sits at a nice, antique-looking dining room table. Bella nods, though admittedly she's never had curry before, but digs in immediately. She regrets this as her eyes begin to water, the spice of the dish both unexpected and intense, and she tries to hide her cough. Edward pats her on the back, not knowing what else to do, and Liz apologizes over and over for not warning Bella of how spicy it was.

"It's fine, I was just surprised," Bella manages to say, though the way her tongue burns makes her think she may never eat again. She picks at her plate through dinner, the mood slightly dampened as Liz looks guilty, Edward looks uncomfortable, and Tony shovels in the food as an avoidance tactic. Conversation is lacking, and instead of hanging around after dinner like Edward hoped they would, he begs off, saying he needs to get back home and go to bed early for his shift in the morning.

With a wave and a few small smiles, they leave the house just as the afternoon turns to evening. The car ride is silent, Bella drowning in insecurity, feeling like she ruined lunch and sure that Edward's family hates her. Edward's uncertainty over the entire situation is beginning to turn to humor as he remembers the look on Bella's face after she took the first bite of her lunch.

He laughs loudly, startling Bella, then annoying her as he looks over at her, laughing even harder. He pulls onto the shoulder of the road, wiping tears from his eyes. He finally catches his breath and looks at her once more, this time not laughing, but smiling, his eyes crinkling up with happiness.

"Worst lunch ever," he tells her, leaning closer and kissing her quickly. "I swear, I've never had a worse 'meet the parents' situation."

She purses her lips, trying not to laugh but failing, eventually giving in. Having some distance from his parents' house gives her a little perspective, and she has to admit, it was pretty damn funny.

"I've never eaten anything so hot," she says. "My ears were burning."

Edward breaks into giggles once more.

"I swear, my cheeks went numb," she continues, drawing out even more laughter. When Edward calms for the second time, the two stare at each other in the waning sunlight.

"It was terrible, but . . . you make everything better," he says, the affection he feels for her evident on his face. "I'm so glad you're with me."

She feels a little bashful, hiding her pleased smile and looking down at her fingers where they're intertwined with his on top of his thigh. She clears her throat and looks back up at him. "I'm glad you're with me, too."

Pulling out the envelope she had yet to open, Bella sits on the edge of her bed, finally tearing the paper to read the letter inside. The letter is short and Bella's finished with it in a matter of minutes. Sliding it back into the envelope, she makes sure the return address is visible. She's not surprised Maggie ended up in Florida; after all, it's about as far from Washington as one can get.


	21. Chapter 21

**Happy Friday, guys. BelleDean beta'd, BelieveItOrNot pre-read. Any and all mistakes are mine.**

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><p><em>2012<em>

There are moments when Bella feels so right with Edward, like everything's falling into place, that he knows her and she knows him, and the stirrings of what she hopes is love come about . . .

But then other times she questions everything. The things he says, the way he looks at her, imagining frustration and boredom where it isn't, but she can't stop. Some days she feels absolutely crazy, like nothing in her mind is working correctly. Those days she remembers what Pat said to her, back when Bella still lived in the shelter: that she needs to talk to someone, a professional. That she needs help.

Avoiding her own thoughts works best for her, so she shuts down her memories, the strange things she believed for so long, and tries to keep the past in the past.

Edward's agitated tonight at work, making Bella feel insecure. She's trying hard to remember if she did or said something to make him upset. When they close the café, and they get into Edward's truck, she reaches over to stop him from backing out of his parking space.

"Why don't we go to your place?"

He nods, still seeming distracted, but within fifteen minutes they're settled on his couch, each nursing a beer.

"So what's going on?" she asks after watching him peel the label off his bottle instead of talking to her or even looking at her.

He sighs. "We've been dating for how long?"

"Uh," she says, thinking, "like four months?"

"You've met my parents. You know where I went to elementary school. I told you about going to the doctor in Nicaragua when I had the, you know," he gestures at his crotch. "The point is you know a hell of a lot about me. And I'm trying so hard not to push. But one minute I feel like I'm falling in love with you, and the next, it's like you're a complete stranger."

Bella's silent during his rant, and for several long moments after. Her mind is going a mile a minute, thinking up exit strategies, trying to think of a tidbit of information that would pacify him without having to reveal too much. Is four months too soon for this sort of thing? She has no standard to judge it by; she's never been in a real relationship before.

When she glances up at him, he's staring at her, face expressionless, lips set in a thin line, like he already knows she's gone. But when she looks at him, and leans into him, and smells him and feels his stubble against her cheek, the last thing she wants to do is leave. So instead of standing up and walking away, hiding or lying or just trying to evade, she gets closer to him and cries.

He's quiet; his arms wrap around her, letting her gather her thoughts, not pushing anymore as guilt already creeps up his spine from making her cry.

"When I was married," she begins, her voice quiet as a whisper. "It wasn't you know, legally binding or anything. I was a part of this church. Or a—a cult."

The word lingers, a word so far removed from Edward's vocabulary that he has to repeat it to himself to make any sense of it.

"I dropped out of high school. Lived in this . . . commune. The leader, he assigned me a husband. I couldn't get pregnant," she tells him. "So my husband got a new wife. They had two kids when I left."

Edward's brain has a hard time processing what she's telling him; never did he imagine that what she would tell him would be like this. He wasn't prepared for it.

"When did you leave? How?" he asks.

"Last year. I ran away. Stole some money for a bus ticket. This is as far as I got."

He's quiet as he contemplates what she's told him, a thousand possibilities, each more horrific than the last, running through his mind. It feels like he may go insane from the visions he's created in an instant, but he pushes back his fear long enough to tell her, "I'm sorry. I don't even know what to say."

"Neither do I." Edward holds her as she falls silent once more, the night passing quickly but neither of them moving. Eventually she drifts off to sleep in his arms, but he stays awake, too many scenarios and questions going through his head to calm down. He wants to know, but at the same time, he doesn't; he feels like a wimp, but it's almost too much for him to hear. But he reminds himself, if he's really in love with her like he thinks he is, he has to be strong for her.

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><p><em>2009<em>

It's not as cold in this house as it was at their home back in Forks. This building's much newer, better insulated. When Bella lies in her bed at night, she doesn't need the extra blankets; she doesn't have to go looking for warmth. Yet, her soul feels frozen.

She can tell by the way Maggie keeps tossing and turning that she can't sleep either.

"How long have you been here?" Bella asks.

"Since we moved here," Maggie replies, earning a sigh from Bella.

"You know what I mean."

"Years. Almost ten years now."

"Were you ever—did Carlisle ever—"

"Whatever's happened to you happened to me. You, me, Esme. We're the same."

"Why haven't you left?"

"Where would I go? What would I do? I've got no money, no skills, no family to go back to. Here I have food to eat and clothes to wear and a roof over my head. I have people that care about me."

Bella's surprised at Maggie's frankness. A part of her wants to be comforted, reassured that what they're doing there is right, that she's not mixed up in something she shouldn't be. But the thoughts she has sometimes . . .

She's lucky in ways, she knows, but she also remembers her father's house, the smell of his cologne, the mismatched kitchen utensils that went largely unused. Maybe she doesn't have much else to leave for but that doesn't stop her from dreaming about it sometimes—going back to Forks, meeting up with Leah and Angela and Alice, going to college, meeting a regular boy.

But it's only a dream. This is her reality.


	22. Chapter 22

**Here you go, guys. BelleDean beta'd and BelieveItOrNot pre-read (btw, both write awesome fics, check out my favorites list).**

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><p><em>2009<em>

"Do you know what town we're in?" Keeping her voice low, Bella glances around, making sure no one but Maggie heard her. When Maggie doesn't respond, Bella opens her mouth to ask again, but Maggie stops her.

"Bella," she responds, her tone warning enough. She barely shakes her head, not even looking up from the biscuit dough she's kneading. Bella knows she shouldn't be asking things like that, especially not around the others—so many words are eavesdropped on, misconstrued and twisted, and she's not in the mood to get lectured. But since talking to Maggie that night, realizing that maybe she wasn't the only one that felt a little out of place, she's had an itch she just couldn't resist scratching—an itch to go, to be free, to live again.

Then the guilt takes over. If only she tried a little harder, prayed more, was more faithful, then maybe her life here would mean something again. The comfort she'd found in her marriage with Emmett was short lived, and now she's longing once more. Her thoughts flicker to the blonde-haired leader, the man that touched her first, but she's not even sure what her place really is now. Would he even want her, knowing she's broken? And should she try to find out?

When Maggie falls asleep that night, Bella gets the itch; she needs to feel something, to have something, to be something to someone. Creeping down the hallway, she struggles to remember exactly which door is Carlisle's. This house—if it could be called a house—is four times the size of their old place, spread out, each door and room identical like an office building.

She stops, looking back and forth between what she thinks is Carlisle's and what may be Marcus's, when a voice laughs behind her. Whirling, her hand splayed across her chest as if to stop it from running away, she comes face to face with Royce. She's managed to stay away from him for the most part since she's lived here—first she stayed by Emmett's side, and then by either Maggie or Esme. But tonight she's alone, and he's alone, and somehow they've found their way to a dark hallway.

Fear prickles at the back of her neck. All those nights she stood at Carlisle's door, she never felt like this. Each time she and Emmett slept together, even when she didn't really want to, she never felt like this. The look on Royce's face, the way he manages to tower over her when he's still feet away, makes her feel almost queasy with fright.

"My room's down here," he tells her, gesturing at the end of one hallway. She shakes her head, too afraid to speak but afraid to move away; the last thing she wants to do is incite him. She doesn't know enough about him to gage if he'd grab her if she tried to run. So instead of getting away, she tries to calm her speeding heart, tries to slow her heavy breathing, and puts on an innocent smile.

"Oh," she replies, so insufficient, so nonchalant.

"You owe me, you know," he says, stepping closer, one foot at a time, so slow but it's almost worse that way. "Rose was supposed to be mine. So if Emmett gets her . . ."

Bella doesn't respond, but she's unable to stand still as he approaches. Sidestepping as best she can, she manages to get to the mouth of the hallway leading back to her room, away from Royce and his too-dark eyes, his dark laugh following her as she turns and hurries back.

Shutting her door behind her, she leans against it, sliding down until she's on the floor, hands clasped over her mouth, unsure why she's still so damn afraid, wondering when it will stop, and asking herself how she even got there.

* * *

><p><em>2012<em>

Bella traces her fingertip over the notepad in front of her, the phone number written there already memorized, but she hasn't thrown the page away yet.

"I'm doing good," she says into the phone, smiling a little to herself. "I don't need any money."

"What, um, so what do you do there? For fun?" Charlie asks, clearly unsure what to say to his estranged daughter, but determined to keep the conversation going.

"I watch movies. I hang out with my, uh, with my boyfriend." Her voice gets quieter as she speaks like she's hoping Charlie won't hear her.

"You have a boyfriend?"

"Yeah. We work together."

"Is he—what's he like?"

"He's still in school. A little younger than me. He's nice."

The conversation halts there. Bella's ready to get off the phone, ready to be calm again, but forging a connection with her father, regardless how incredible tenuous and volatile it might be right now, is important to her.

Charlie clears his throat. "I know it's early, but maybe you can come home for the holidays. I'll drive down and get you, or get you a bus ticket. You can even bring your boyfriend. If you want."

"I'll think about it, Dad." The word sticks in her mouth, a word she hasn't said aloud to him in so long it's hard to even think about.

"Okay. Well. Call me again soon. Maybe next week? Or I'll call you." He's nervous, she can tell, and she smiles again.

"I will. Um. Kay—bye."

"Bye." She pulls her phone away from her ear, staring at the screen until it says the call is disconnected. The smile stays on her face. She's happy. She feels lighter. Her face is warm as she touches her hand to her cheek.

* * *

><p>At work, Edward's distant. Well, maybe not distant, but distracted. He takes the orders, but he messes up a few, and anytime Bella tries to talk to him, it takes him a few seconds to come out of whatever trance he's in. The semester doesn't begin for a few more weeks, so Bella's not sure what's wrong with him.<p>

Though, a little voice in a little corner of her mind wonders if he's acting strange because of what she told him a few nights ago.

He drops her off at her apartment that night with a peck on her lips and a sort-of smile. When she goes to bed that night, she tells herself not to freak out. She tells herself everything's fine. She tells herself that even if it's not, she doesn't need Edward to have a new life.


	23. Chapter 23

**Here you go, guys. BelleDean beta'd and BelieveItOrNot pre-read.**

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><p><em>2012<em>

Bella startles awake, but isn't sure what woke her. She lies still for a few seconds, and then the sound of someone knocking at her front door makes her jump once more. She gets up, tugging a shirt over her thin tank top, and peeks through the peephole to see Edward standing there, looking tired and unkempt.

"Hey," she greets him as she swings the door open. He gives her a real smile, not the weird, forced version from the night before. He leans in to kiss her but she turns her head, mindful of her morning breath. Covering her mouth, she accepts his kiss on the cheek instead, and invites him in.

As she starts a pot of coffee, he comes up behind her, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist, his lips finding the curve of her neck, making her tingle and tickle all over. It feels so good to have him hold her, especially after worrying herself to sleep last night.

"You're in a better mood," she says, leading, hoping he'll offer up what was bothering him last night. When she turns in his arms, hugging him, she spots a laptop sitting on her kitchen counter. "Did you bring that?"

He glances over his shoulder and nods. "I noticed you didn't have one. My parents bought me a new one, so. I brought it for you."

"I can pay you for it," she offers, knowing already that he'll decline.

"Why? I was just gonna throw it away or something."

"What can I give you for it?"

He nuzzles his face into her bird's nest of hair, humming quietly before answering. "I got it. You can invite me over for a home-cooked meal twice a week."

"Deal." The coffee maker beeps as its done brewing, and she fixes them both a mug before opening the laptop to examine it further. "How do you turn it on?"

"Right here." He pushes a button and the screen comes to life. "I set the charger over there. Do you have wireless?"

"Internet? No. I don't have it at all."

"Oh. Well, you can get it through your cable company."

"I don't have cable."

"I'll figure something out." He kisses her again, this time on her lips, and leads her to the couch. "After we worked together that first day, I tried to find you on Facebook."

"Really?"

"I got your last name from Greg. Obviously I didn't find you, but . . . if you want, after we get your internet set up, you can get one. And then we can, you know. Change our status."

"Change our status?"

"Yeah. I haven't . . . I mean, it did say I was single. And I took that down, but I could put I'm in a relationship with you," he tells her. He keeps looking down, like he's embarrassed or nervous, and Bella just wants to see his face, see what he's trying to hide from her. She grabs his jaw, getting him to look at her, and she spots it instantly—fear. He's afraid she doesn't want what he's asking.

"I talked to my dad yesterday." Edward's face falls a little at the subject change. "I told him you were my boyfriend."

His smiles returns, wide and genuine and then he gives her a real kiss, morning-coffee-breath be damned. Giggles and smacking kisses and low voices fill the morning air until morning turns to afternoon, and they've barely moved from the couch. Bella's cuddled up against him, still in her pajamas, enjoying her day off and wishing Edward didn't have to go in later.

"So," she begins, ready to ask her question. "Was something on your mind last night?"

He pauses, sucking in a quick breath and holding it. After a few seconds pass, he looks down at her. "I was thinking about what you told me. About you."

"Okay."

"I have to admit, it freaked me out at first," he says, covering his eyes and leaning his head back against the couch. "Then I talked to my mom this morning—"

"Did you tell her?"

He's quiet, weighing the situation. "Yeah." When Bella doesn't react, he continues. "And she just gave me some good advice. I care about you, and I think this is going somewhere."

She still doesn't respond, prompting him to try to see her expression. "Do you?"

"I do." She gives him a tight smile. "I'm just kinda embarrassed. For her to know."

"Don't be. She told me that I just need to support you and ask questions if I want to know something and make sure we communicate. And just because I don't get it, really, doesn't mean I can't be what you need. In a . . . partner."

"She's a smart woman," Bella says. "So I guess we're really doing this."

"Being together?" She nods. "Yeah, we are. I mean, I want to change my Facebook status and everything."

She laughs, sitting up and making her way into the kitchen to get something together for lunch. Days like this—completely normal days—always make her feel like she's living someone else's life. But it's her life. She just has to remember that. It's no one else's.

* * *

><p><em>2009<em>

After three weeks of strange looks and whispers, Carlisle pulls Bella aside. His arm is heavy around her shoulder, his lips close to her ear. He's upset with Marcus. He's upset with Royce. He's not upset with her; in fact, he holds her close like she's precious, he tells her Royce has no claim to her. She feels good, she smiles; she's happy for a moment.

That night she finds his room easily. If she worried he'd turn her away, it was all for naught.

She sneaks back into her room at dawn, Maggie none the wiser.


	24. Chapter 24

**Happy St. Patrick's Day, ya'll. Hope you have a great weekend.**

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><p><em>2010<em>

Months pass; winter turns to spring, then spring to summer, and everything is all mixed up. Bella feels the constant push and pull, holding her family close and then turning away, looking to the horizon, wishing for a way out.

For months she's struggled, some nights so lonely she aches, while at other times she resents Carlisle, and everything he stands for. Her happiness is elusive, a whisper she can never catch. Some nights, when she's weak, she goes to Carlisle but his door is locked. One night she goes and he's occupied, a body under him she can't really see. They don't notice her so she tiptoes back out of the room; she vows not to return.

The new bond with Maggie is tenuous, fragile. They've bonded over their own shortcomings, over their lack of esteem within the community, but as far as Bella can tell, Maggie looks at Bella as though she's the stupid one for running into Carlisle's arms, for allowing him to have her. Bella doesn't know if it's worse to be seen, or to be ignored; she may just fade altogether, blending into the walls, a wraith haunting the house.

Come early fall, a new baby will be in the family. Emmett looks so happy with Rose, rubbing her large belly, smiling his dimpled smile, light twinkling in his eyes. Did he ever look that way with Bella? Could he have, if only she'd provided a baby, too?

Jasper and Maria just had their second. Bella finds herself examining Peter as he plays, looking at his blonde hair, his blue eyes, wondering all the while if his traits really come from Jasper, or if he's another one of Carlisle's. Neither Tanya nor Emily has become pregnant again, leaving Bella to wonder if they're left alone after serving their purpose, or if it's something else.

Vera's baby, Henry, is clearly Marcus's, though the two don't seem to be linked in any particular way. The way Vera watches Carlisle borders on obsessive, and Bella strains to remember if the woman lying underneath Carlisle that night, the one he thrust into with abandon, was her.

Victoria, skittish as ever, stays away from Bella—and everyone, for that matter. She's betrothed to Riley, a wedding long in the works, despite the fact that the others were always married quickly. Riley, with eyes so dark they seem to be receding into his skull, follows Victoria around, a shadow, and Bella hopes he's a protector, not a predator.

Esme runs the schedule; she plans the dinners, assigns the chores, keeps everything going. Bella watches her—she watches all of them—and has so many questions, and no one to ask. Even if she went to Maggie, she doesn't know if the girl trusts her enough to answer. The house has electricity, has running water. There are two vehicles at their disposal, each filled with gas and tuned up for trips into town, and sometimes farther away. No one leaves for work, yet somehow everything is paid for. There's a mailbox out front, and sometimes the flag is raised, but Bella's never seen so much as an envelope or stamp lying around.

The secrets on this property are enough to bury them all. Bella's curiosity burns hotter each day, each hour. On the outside, she's docile and complacent. But inside, where her mind whirs constantly, where her heart aches for seemingly no reason, there's a war going on. She doesn't know which side will win.

* * *

><p><em>2012<em>

Halloween night arrives. Bella can hardly believe she left the cult a year ago; her life has changed so quickly, everything around her different and new, but there's a part of her inside that feels the same. The days and nights spent with Edward bring her joy, a contentment and excitement she can't remember having before. But when he's gone, as he so often has to be for school, her memories taunt her, making her think she's still an eighteen year old walking into that house in the middle of nowhere, God and man heavy around her, pulling her under. She wakes at night, suffocating, gasping for air she can't seem to find. Sometimes Edward's with her, sometimes he wakes and holds her, stroking her hair, helping her calm down. And when he's not, she chokes for minutes at a time, wishing she would just die already, losing herself entirely to her past.

The longer she's away, the more she remembers, the more it all weighs on her.

Despite their many sleepovers, Edward and Bella haven't actually slept together. Hands and mouths have traveled, waves crested, lips parted with moans, but Bella can't bring herself to seal the deal. Edward's patient, too patient, and kind and respectful, and all those things First Corinthians says love is. Because he is, he does. He loves her.

This morning, he said it in the early light to the back of her head as she woke, but she pretended not to hear, pretended to still be sleeping. Her quick pulse must've given her away, though, because Edward kept his eyes away from hers the rest of the morning, opting to shower alone and leave early instead of staying with her as long as he could. She wants to say it back—even now, leaning against the counter at work, staring blankly at the cars driving by outside—she tries to say it out loud, just to get used to it.

The words are stuck and she doesn't know why. She feels it in every beat of her heart, the blood pumping through her veins singing Edward's name.

When she goes home that night, alone, she pulls out the laptop Edward gave her, checking her Facebook Edward helped her start, using the internet Edward set up for her. She sees that he'd been online today, commenting on another guy's wall about a football game she knows nothing about. Flicking through her many friend requests, all from her former high school classmates, she debates on accepting or not. Bored in seconds, she shuts the computer down and picks up her phone. Struggling to type out a text to her boyfriend, she finally just tells him she's heading to bed, and if he's coming over to use his spare key. He doesn't text her back that night, doesn't show up at her place, and when she wakes in a cold, lonely bed the next morning, she can't stop a few tears from falling.

The phone rings, distracting her from her despondency. It's her father; he has a proposal. It could change everything.


	25. Chapter 25

**Here's a little Sunday night treat for you guys. Short, but I thought it should stand alone.**

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><p><em>2012<em>

Bella knocks at the apartment door, hearing the noise of a game coming from inside, blaring so loud she doubts Edward can hear her. There's an energy running through her, an urgent, desperate cocktail, shaken and poured over ice. She's fit to burst.

She knocks a little harder, trying the doorknob but it's locked, and she never has gotten a key to his place. On the verge of breaking a window, he finally opens the door, still in his pajamas, eyes bleary and two-day stubble shading his jaw. He's tired, she can tell, but she has to be here now, has to tell him how she feels, has to pull him closer to her, inside of her, before everything changes.

"You busy?" she asks, stepping inside. He shakes his head and yawns.

"Nah. Just got up. I had a paper due this morning; I was up 'til five." Scratching his stomach, he looks at her, studying her. "What's up?"

She gets closer, standing so close it's uncomfortable, tilting her head back to look at him. They're not touching, but the heat of their bodies is mingling, and as she smiles up at him, he smiles back, an automatic response.

"I love you," she says. It's out there, it's real, she's told him and can never take it back. He looks surprised but also not; as he cradles her face and kisses her, she can feel the lightness, the relief in his lips, and he pulls away, laughing.

"I love you, too," he tells her. "But you knew that."

"I did." They stare at each other, a new tension in the room, and Bella discovers her urgency once more. She pushes him back to his bedroom, kissing him wherever she can reach as they stumble, and when she pulls her shirt over her head, his eyes alight with excitement. Her pants are gone. Her simple bra and panties are gone. Her hair is down, her skin scrubbed clean of makeup. She's completely bare before him. In all the times before, with Carlisle and Emmett, she never had this feeling. She was always vulnerable, but never open, never real. She's ready for Edward to really see her.

Undressing him quickly, she's there, on top of him, suddenly nervous.

Rolling over, she tugs until he's on top of her, and she pulls him close with her ankles pressed into his back. He's ready, pushing into her, and Bella's mind is blissfully blank. He stops, looking up, worried.

"I need a—"

She shakes her head. "It's good. I'm good."

"Me, too." Thoughts of blood tests and tiny little pills filter out of his mind as he finds his home within her. Sweat sticks his skin to hers, as grunts and moans and little sighs escape their lips. It's over quickly, but Edward can't find it in himself to be embarrassed. When Bella finishes, her body still quaking from aftershocks, they lie side-by-side, hands clasped. They confess their love once more. Gaining a little strength, Bella leans up on her arm, staring at him, this man she loves, hoping her news will be okay, hoping they can make things work.

He sees the worry in her eyes, and his own concern and fear appears. "Did I—was it not—"

"It was perfect." She kisses him deeply then drapes herself across his bare chest. Her news can wait. She just wants to be for a minute.


	26. Chapter 26

**Hey, guys - happy Monday (night)! BelleDean beta'd.**

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><p><em>2012<em>

After a cat nap, Bella pulls herself from Edward's bed, trying to wake up enough to talk to him. She stares at herself in the bathroom mirror for several minutes before taking a deep breath and heading back into his room, finding him sitting up, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. He still looks so tired, but so happy, and a battle is waged within her over whether or not she should broach the subject yet.

"Come here," he says, holding a hand out to her. She sits next to him, tucking herself into his side, her face pressed into his neck, smelling the day-old aftershave on his skin and smiling. She wants a thousand more moments like this, maybe a million, but before she can get to that, she has to talk to him.

"My dad called yesterday," she tells him. He hums, and when she looks up, his eyes are shut again. "Hey."

He blinks and looks down at her. "Yeah?"

"This is important, okay?" Nodding, he sits up straighter, looking more alert. "He wants me to come home for Christmas."

"Cool. Are you gonna be here for Thanksgiving? You can eat with us."

"Uh, yeah, I'll be here. The thing is . . . when—if—I go for Christmas, I might not come right back."

"What do you mean?"

"He wants me to live with him."

"Why?"

"He said he'll help me. Help pay for"—she lowers her voice—"therapy."

"Were you going to discuss this with me?" His voice is tight, controlled.

"I'm discussing it with you now." She forces herself to look him in the eye. He's hurt, she can tell, and a little frustrated. "What do you think?"

"I think I don't want you to go. And maybe that makes me selfish," he says, sighing. "Can't you get therapy here? Will your dad pay for it, or do you have to go home?"

"I'm sure if I told him I wanted to stay, he would still help. But I don't know if that's the best idea." He stares at her, his eyes searching hers, seconds passing and Bella's falling but doesn't know what into yet.

"So this," he says, gesturing at the bed. "Was goodbye?"

"No. I love you." She touches his jaw, leans in closer, and makes sure he sees that she means it. "I love you and want to be with you. But I'm . . . for lack of better words, I'm fucked up. If I want to be in a healthy relationship, I need to take care of myself first."

"Things are so good between us," he whispers, his face buried in her hair, the fear in his voice palpable, making Bella's heart beat faster.

"They are, but I'm not healthy. My head is so mixed up. The memories, the dreams, my feelings—I can barely handle it all. I feel like I'm drowning sometimes." Her voice cracks and he wraps her up in a tighter embrace. She begins to tremble as she prepares the next words she has to say. "And I need to tell you that—that I love you but this is something I have to do for me. If you don't agree . . . I have to do this anyway."

Looking up at him, tears stuck in her eyelashes, she sees the change take place in his expression, the reluctance, the resignation, but also a hint of respect. "I get it. And I want you to be happy and healthy. But I want you with me, too. Can we do both? Can we make it work?"

"I want to. I promise. We can do the long distance thing. I may not even be gone that long. Maybe I'll hate it and come home after a week or two." She smiles sadly, but he shakes his head.

"No, you need to do this. I can do long distance. And it's not that far, right? I can visit."

"Can I still spend Thanksgiving with you?" He smiles, a little more genuine, and lies back, pulling her on top of him.

"You better." His smile slowly fades as he brushes her hair back off her face, studying her, then kissing her, undressing her, holding her as close as he can, fusing his body to hers, relishing the moments he gets with her. Two become one, and nothing's ever been as beautiful.

* * *

><p><em>2010<em>

The thoughts—fantasies, really—running through Bella's mind occupy most of her time nowadays. She dreams of getting away, seeing her father, or maybe heading east instead, going until she hits the Atlantic. She pictures herself in a concrete jungle, skyscrapers towering over her, cloaked in anonymity, lost in the haze of living. An ant on an anthill. Indistinguishable.

She thinks of a featureless man with a nondescript voice cherishing her, worshipping her, laying his life down for her_. For this is love: to lay down your life for another. _

In order to gain Maggie's trust, Bella fights every instinct to go to Carlisle, to seek out that warmth, that fleeting acceptance. But each passing day makes Bella feel like more of a ghost, like her bones are crumbling into ash, disintegrating slowly until nothing is left. She never felt like she knew who she was before; now she realizes she's even more lost than she was in the beginning.

Jasper goes somewhere, on another short trip. When he returns a few days later, he's still alone, but Bella hears whispers about recruiting, about pulling in more people. She wants in. She needs to get into town, to figure out where she is and where she can go before any type of plan can really be formulated. She considers talking to Maggie, but knows it's less risky if she keeps it all to herself until the last possible moment.

Bella's insides tremble as she lifts her gaze, forcing herself to lock eyes with Carlisle, the strange dark spot in his iris sucking her in like a black hole.

"You said I could go," she tells him, her voice quiet and meek and she hates it. "But I never got to."

He searches her, peers right into her; she fears he can read her thoughts right there across her cornea, but after several uncomfortable seconds, he agrees. His arm wraps around her, pulling her into a hug that feels like one neither from a father nor one from a lover. She fights to stay in his embrace while every cell in her body screams for her to pull away and scrub herself clean.

But she succeeds. He believes her. Has no reason to doubt her.

Now she has to prove him wrong.


	27. Chapter 27

**Here you go, guys. Just in case missed it, I did update twice during the ff alert fail, so skip back a couple to make sure you're caught up before reading this one.**

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><p><em>2010<em>

Bella's nerves are frayed, stretched taut and vibrating more with each mile they cover. Following a twisty road along the river, Jasper, Vera and Bella left their tiny home in Tumtum—a name Bella learned of only that morning—bypassed Spokane, and headed into Idaho. It feels strange for her to see an interstate, to see so many other cars and people on their way to work or school, just living normal lives in society, accepted and plain.

They reach the outskirts of Coeur D'Alene, a large city—that largest Bella's ever seen—and wind their way through a suburb before pulling up to a grocery store. Bella keeps her head down, out of place and awkward, as they gather food and supplies, filling two grocery carts easily. Standing in the checkout line, her eyes dance over the myriad of magazines, celebrities she's never heard of gracing the covers, spouting information on movies and shows and beautiful faces she knows nothing about.

Without thinking, like a moth to a flame, she reaches out and touches a candy bar, a memory coming to her of being a child and begging her father for one. The gold wrapper was so enticing to her that day, at eye level in the convenience store they'd stopped in on the way to fishing at the lake. He said no, but she was a stubborn girl of seven, and she grabbed the candy bar, tucked it under her shirt, and ran outside before he could stop her.

She remembered her face burning with defiance, fear palpable once she realized she'd committed a crime. When her father strolled outside several seconds later, she braced herself, expecting a swat on her backside, but instead he knelt down, looked her right in the eye, and told her to go back and apologize to the shopkeeper. She shook her head, a tear forming and rolling down her ruddy cheek, but he insisted. Taking her by the hand, he led her inside, and she mumbled out an apology, genuine despite how unintelligible it was, and she began hiccupping so hard she nearly hyperventilated.

They didn't make it to the lake that day, but her father wasn't angry. He even let her keep the candy bar that he'd actually paid for already. Bella could still feel her father's arms, strong and protective, carrying her into their house, her head heavy on his shoulder, that candy bar still in her hand.

She stares for too long and Jasper nudges her harshly, getting her attention. Vera's paying for the groceries, and it's time for them to go. Lost in her thoughts, Bella realizes belatedly she needs to pay more attention to her surroundings. They wind up in some sort of square, all painted concrete and tall statues, with a man standing in front of a large crowd. He's dressed in an old-fashioned robe, his hair past his shoulders, and a thick beard on his face. Stepping out of the car, Bella hears his words, and wonders if he's with them, if he's a part of what they're doing.

"Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God," he says, his voice clear, the crowd mostly entranced, though some are whispering amongst themselves, giggling. It's cold out, and Bella holds her arms tightly around her midsection, trying to keep warm.

Jasper nods to Vera, and they split off, Jasper going to the left and Vera to the right. She motions for Bella to come with her, Bella following obediently but unable to pay attention to what Vera's saying to some of the young people they approach. She's supposed to be learning what to do, but instead she can't help but watch the crowd and look up at the man—obviously play-acting Jesus—and let his words dip into her soul.

"You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden." His voice is loud, so loud, and Bella struggles to focus on Vera's retreating form instead of gawking at the man preaching. As they work their way through the crowd, getting closer and closer to him, Bella can tell that despite his thick, blonde beard, he's actually quite young, probably her age. Bella watches Vera work, noticing how easily Vera spots loners, picking out the desperate ones like they have glowing neon signs over their heads.

"You have heard it said, 'an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.' But I say to you, do not resist the one who is evil. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also," the man instructs them. Vera is speaking quickly and quietly to a young girl, barely out of high school, thin with stringy hair and eyes that are too bloodshot to be natural. Vera places a hand on the girl's shoulder, bowing her head, praying too low for Bella to hear, so she uses the opportunity to look around, scout out her surroundings. There are shops lining the square, as well as a government building, possibly a courthouse, a hundred yards away.

"If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles. Give to the one who begs from you, and do not refuse the one who would borrow from you." Through the crowd, Bella spots Jasper's blonde hair, his head also bent low, a young woman in front of him, nodding along with what he's saying.

"You have heard that it was said, 'You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust."

The background noise of the man preaching is almost too much for Bella. She's standing in the middle of a crowd, lost, confused, helping to recruit people into something she's getting out of, the words of Jesus infusing her mind and getting her even more mixed up. She's over stimulated, afraid, her body beginning to tremble from anxiety and emotion, memories of her father beating against her brain, and she just wants out, wants it to be over. Looking around, she contemplates her chances of falling in with the others, getting truly lost in the crowd, Jasper and Vera opting to leave instead of looking for her.

"Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven," Jesus says, teaching her how to pray. And she does. She closes her eyes, voices so loud around her she wonders if she's hearing their thoughts instead, and she asks God to help her, to guide her out of this pit she's in.

Soon enough she's gotten separated from Vera, on accident, though she's thankful for it, and the man, Jesus, is finished with his sermon. As the crowd begins to disperse, Jesus himself walks up to her, holding out his hand and introducing himself.

"I'm James," he says, shaking her hand firmly, keeping hold of her long after than socially acceptable. "I noticed you're . . . looking a little lost."

His eyes are dark, strangely dark for his pale skin and light hair, and she hates that she can't see where the iris meets the pupil. Staring, not responding, Bella feels like she wants to fall into him but also that she needs to turn and run. James leans in closer, his lips at her ear, his breath hot on her cold skin. "I saw who you came here with. I can help you. I know who they are."

Bella freezes, her blood halting in her veins, her heart like a deer in the headlights, waiting for a sign that it's safe to continue. She stutters. "I-I can't, um, I mean—"

"If you come with me now, I can get you somewhere safe. They won't find you." She pulls back, looking at his face, searching his unfamiliar features, trying to find security there, trying to find something to cling to, to trust.

"I can't. There's someone else. I can't leave her."

"What's your name?" His eyes flicker over the still-gathered crowd, but Bella's too afraid to look around, too scared to see Jasper or Vera watching her, knowing what she's up to.

"Bella," she whispers.

"I'm James Hunter. If you can get away, call Grace Church. Give them a message for me. I'll help you." He sees something past her shoulder that causes him to step back, a different expression coming over his face, less fierce, warmer, holy. "I see you know your scripture."

She doesn't have time to be confused before a hand is at her elbow, pulling her away. Jasper glares at James, but doesn't seem particularly suspicious of Bella. James smiles, trying to shake Jasper's hand but Jasper doesn't go along with it.

"I was just discussing the Sermon on the Mount with your friend here. She's very knowledgeable." The smile James gives her is perfectly formed, like one of a helpful servant, a preacher well versed in politics, distant but friendly.

"We've had a good teacher," Jasper replies, pulling Bella away without saying goodbye to James. She glances over her shoulder, and the intense look is back on his face as he nods at her, just once. Bella follows Jasper, meeting up with Vera at the van, a new girl standing there, skinny and starving.

On the drive home, Bella contemplates James's offer, wondering if it's the only way, if she can trust someone she doesn't know to help her get away from Carlisle. She's afraid she'll have to.

* * *

><p><em>James is based on someone I actually knew who dressed up as Jesus and preached the Sermon on the Mount in public on the weekends.<em>


	28. Chapter 28

**Happy Friday, ya'll! I posted a O/S I wrote for the Truly Anonymous Contest on my profile page if you're interested in a short, non-HEA story. BelleDean makes the time to beta all these chapters, btw.**

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><p><em>2012<em>

Fall passes quickly into winter, an early cold snap hitting right before Thanksgiving, coating the ground with enough snow to hinder everyone's plans. But Edward and Bella are only traveling across town, so they pull up to the pretty house in the cul-de-sac around noon, shaking the snow from their boots, pulling knit caps from their heads, and walking into a house full of warmth—both from the food, and the company.

Liz is extra friendly toward Bella, no doubt due to Edward spilling the beans of Bella's past to her, but it doesn't make Bella uncomfortable like she thought it might. On the contrary, she feels like she can be more herself now that her secret's out, and no one's turned their back on her. Senna flew home to be with her family, so it's a little more subdued, though Tony turns his attention to ribbing his little brother, most of his jokes centered on the lightness in Edward's eyes, the relaxed muscles of his shoulders. Upon seeing Edward, he immediately announces that his little brother got laid, leading to a lot of blushing on Bella's part and a lot of shushing on Liz's.

After filling her belly with way too much food, Bella sits back on the sofa in the family room in a trance as she watches the flames in the fireplace. Her eyelids are heavy, but then Liz asks her about coming over for Christmas, and she politely declines. Edward takes her hand and squeezes it, telling his family that Bella will be staying at her dad's for a while.

"You're moving away?" Liz asks, her eyes on Edward even as she speaks to Bella.

"Not moving," she tells them. "Just staying there for a little while."

"Will you be back for Edward's graduation?"

Looking at Edward, she gives him a smile. "Definitely. I wouldn't miss it."

That night they lie in bed and kiss and kiss and kiss. It doesn't go any further as they drift off to sleep, their lips still almost touching. Bella's realized over the past few weeks that sex between lovers—real in-love-lovers—is a lot different than what she had before. Being together, being one is the most important thing, not making a baby, not gaining control or being more powerful than the other. Sex with Edward isn't a weapon or a threat. It's just their bodies' response to the other, a manifestation of their hearts and souls joining. Edward never pushes. And because he doesn't, Bella never pulls away. She's never felt more secure than she does when she's with him, enveloping him, looking into his eyes and knowing he sincerely loves her.

The bliss of their relationship is almost enough to chase the bad dreams away. It almost blots out her painful memories. But suppressing them hasn't helped, and her subconscious finds ways to torment her still. She needs an exorcism, she thinks, and while the thought of being apart from Edward pains her, she's ready to take that next step and get help. She's spoken to her father a few times since she told him she'd be coming to stay with him, and she's optimistic they can begin to develop a real father-daughter connection as well.

She's hopeful for the future. It's an unfamiliar feeling for her, but she holds on to it with both hands, unwilling to let it go. And each day she realizes it's up to her to make that future happen, and no one else.

* * *

><p><em>2011<em>

January, February, March. They pass so quickly, like a blink, and Bella knows her time is running out. Each day the oppression weighs more heavily on her, dragging her down like a weighted belt, everything about her beginning to slump. She told Maggie about James and what he said, but Maggie seems hesitant to run.

Babies, babies, more babies, more young mothers, more young men, more marriages. Life around her is in warp speed but she's not involved in any of it. Bella isn't allowed to go on any more recruiting trips after Vera tattled on her to Carlisle. Wandering off on her own, talking to a strange man like she did, was a big mistake. Carlisle watches her more closely now, expecting something more from her, expecting her to make a big move. Now, more than ever, she has to lay low and keep suspicions at bay. She needs to recede into the background, a decoration on the wall, so when she makes her move she can truly get away.

Carlisle has taken Vera as his own, officially. If Marcus is displeased, he doesn't show it outwardly. Carlisle taking a new wife brought more questions to Bella's mind, the contradictoriness of his actions and ideals making her skin prickle with discomfort. He's the leader, he's the law, and he changes it all to how he sees fit, to how it best suits him. He needs virgins, he needs babies, he needs a new wife, he needs-needs-needs and he takes. Bella's opinion of him has sunk further than she knew was possible; all those years ago she thought she saw more to him, but all she sees now is greedy hands, lustful eyes, a starving vacuum where his soul should be. He's disgusting. But she can't look at him with repulsion; instead she must accept his hugs, let him touch her cheek, let him graze her ribs with his searching fingers. But not for long.

She dreams of going to her father, telling him everything, and letting him drive up to this compound with his buddies, guns strapped on their hips, ready for justice. But she's not quite there yet. She's biding her time, looking for the perfect moment, the perfect plan. It's so close she can taste it, she can feel the freedom tingling in her bloodstream, like wind in her hair, like jumping from a swing, like diving into a pool.

She won't let anything stop her, but she must be patient.

* * *

><p><strong>Also, this is the only time I'll mention this on here so I don't get annoying, but my husband and I are attempting to shoot a film this summer - I wrote the script, it's about a doomsday cult leader (because I'm just into cults, okay?). Here's the link to our Kickstarter page: kck (dot) st  GGTROL**


	29. Chapter 29

**Happy Sunday! Are we all in various states of Hunger Games hangovers? I think I'm still a little drunk. :) **

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><p><em>2011<em>

Bella's brown eyes lower as she moves through the house, laundry at her hip, but she still sees everything. Confiding in Maggie has become a priority, so at night she slips into the other girl's bed, her lips at Maggie's ear so as not to be overheard. Her paranoia has grown exponentially, the ratio equal to her scheming. Maggie's startled but listens as Bella tells her of meeting James, the town, the plan forming in her mind. But they need money and they need transportation, both of which will have to be procured by less-than-ethical means.

But desperate times call for desperate measures, and Bella's never felt the kind of desperation licking at her heels like the inferno she feels now.

Maggie's gone so long without crawling into Carlisle's arms at night that she wouldn't be able to do so without garnering more suspicion, but Bella can. She's fairly certain any money would be hidden in his room, though she fears that the amount of cash kept on the compound might not be enough for her and Maggie to get very far; that's where James comes in. Warnings and worries flit through her mind, things about _better to deal with the devil you know_, but she's run out of options. She won't get very far on foot, not before they realize she's gone and catch up to her, so stealing one of the vehicles and contacting James is the only thing she can do.

The worst part of their tentative plan is the waiting. Summer passes, one of the hottest on record, and the crowded house is almost unbearable. Bella's constantly coated in a sheen of sticky sweat, her hair curled and frizzed around her face, no breeze or summer rains to cool her off. Each day that passes is another moment chipping away at the feeble armor Bella's built around herself, another chance to second guess everything, to imagine the kinds of things they'd do to her if they realized what she was thinking.

Fading into the background comes natural to her, and that's exactly where she needs to be. As soon as eyes stop noticing her, as soon as she becomes a silent, hard working spirit floating through the house again, she puts her plan into action. Maggie's been looked over for so long it won't be difficult for her to slip away. Bella hopes they've both become so expendable, so _nothing,_ that their absence isn't noticed at first.

Vera's pregnant, as well as Heidi, the girl Vera recruited months back when they went into town. As far as Bella can tell, Vera doesn't sleep in Carlisle's room at night—Bella walked the halls several nights in a row, listening and watching and waiting, her footsteps more silent with each trip. Going to Carlisle's room will be a risk; he may not be alone, but she has to try. Maggie's on guard, ready to run if Bella's successful, and ready to hide any evidence if she's not.

Their few belongings are stuffed into socks which are stuffed into pairs of jeans which are rolled up in sweatshirts. Easy to grab and tie around their waists or shoulders if it comes to literally running away, something they both accept as a possibility but hope doesn't happen.

Bella's heart thrums like a hummingbird's wings as she slowly makes her way down the hall, turning a corner and Carlisle's door coming into view. She stops when her hand lands on the doorknob, taking a deep breath, second and third and fourth thoughts attacking her, a little devil on her shoulder tempting her to give up and stay. But she can't.

She opens the door, her eyes already adjusting to the darkness, immediately seeing a lone body in Carlisle's bed, a fair-colored demon, dangerous behind his beautiful facade.

Touching the covers, she pulls them back, and Carlisle stirs. It takes him a moment to see who it is, and when he does, his smile, his whispered "Bella," makes her cringe inside, but on the outside she's lonely and cold and needy. She crawls over him, hating herself but hating him more, reminding herself that it's all just a means to an end.

Pulling her shirt over her head, he's distracted, enthralled, already ready underneath her. She leans forward and presses her lips to his throat, tracing his jugular with her tongue like a vampire, and lets him place his hands on her.

* * *

><p><em>2012<em>

It's two days before Christmas, and Bella's about to leave. Charlie drove down to pick her up; her things are all packed in boxes and trash bags, her apartment now empty. Edward reluctantly took back the furniture he'd loaned her, as well as some of the things she'd bought for her home. She makes him promise to hold on to them, storing them for her until she comes back.

Because she's coming back. That's nonnegotiable.

Edward sniffs loudly in her ear as he holds her, but tries not to really cry. He can do that after she leaves; for now he wants her to feel good about going, to be optimistic about what's to come. Four months or six months or however long it ends up being isn't much compared to the years he hopes to spend with her down the road. Her eyes are filled with tears as she looks at him, kissing him soundly on the lips, lasting long enough, looking passionate enough, that her father turns away, uncomfortable and sad as well.

"I love you," they both say at the same time, momentary smiles lighting their faces. "I'll talk to you soon," Bella adds. "I'll call tonight."

Edward nods, kissing her one more time, but not the last time, and walking her to her father's police cruiser. He opens her door, tries to smile, and taps the top of the car when she's all in and ready to leave. And she does leave, and it hurts more than either thought it would, but with the pain comes the knowledge that things will be better when they're reunited.

That doesn't stop the increasing ache that fills Edward, though, the further she gets from him. Like a thread tying them together, it unspools until it reaches the end, catching, tugging harshly, then snapping. Edward's left with his end, and he hopes Bella holds on to hers.

Charlie clears his throat, the first hour of the drive silent apart from Bella's sniffles. "I made some calls, and, uh, had some guys check out that town."

"Oh?" Bella asks, her vision coming back into focus after staring blankly at the road in front of them for so long.

"They're gone. No sign of them."

"And Forks?"

"They didn't come back."

"They could be anywhere," she points out.

"But they're not anywhere near you, I can promise you that. I'll keep you safe." His voice is certain, sure and strong. She believes him.

The piercing pain in her heart distracts her from her memories temporarily, her mind choosing to focus on Edward instead of Carlisle or the cult; as her eyes slip shut and she begins to fade into dreamland, she sees Edward and his smile, his five o'clock shadow, his crooked bottom teeth, and she thinks she already can't wait to see him again.


	30. Chapter 30

**Happy Friday!**

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><p><em>2011<em>

Bella's breaths are shallow as she waits, Carlisle lying asleep beside her. When he begins to lightly snore, she slowly, so slowly, creeps out from under the covers, moving a millimeter at a time, making sure he doesn't wake. The room is simply furnished: a long dresser sits against one wall, a nightstand by the bed, and a small closet.

Opening the top drawer of the nightstand, she tries to silently rifle through the meager contents. A pair of reading glasses. A pad of paper and a pen. A bottle of lube. The bottom drawer is less helpful, curiously filled with underwear and socks. Tiptoeing to the dresser, she opens each drawer, holding her breath when one gets stuck then loudly creaks open, but Carlisle doesn't stir.

She finds plain white shirts, pleated khakis, the long white robe he wears for baptisms, and a collection of paperback books hidden in the bottom drawer, stuck behind several sweaters.

The closet is full of junk, looking more like a pitiful storage room, and Bella can't even begin to look through there in the dark. She feels defeat welling up within her, rising like a flood, about to pull her under and suck all the ambition from her bones. But she tries her best to push through, retracing her steps, going back to the nightstand, pulling open that bottom drawer, and staring at the pile of socks. She thinks of her own belongings back in her room, in Maggie's care, stuffed into her clothes.

Picking up a pair at a time, she examines them closely, finding a bulge down in the toe of one. When her fingers close around the small wad of money, her eyes shut with the briefest relief. If nothing else, they have some means to run. She can't make out the top bill in the dark room, so she hides the money down the front of her camisole and continues looking.

Feeling through each item, she finds another bulge, this one hard, pointy, and she finds two sets of keys wrapped up in three socks, almost completely disguised. She grabs one set, not knowing which vehicle they're for, and stands quickly. Eyeing the door, she edges her way over to it, hearing a rustling in the bed. Carlisle is rubbing at his eyes and rolling over. She's a statue by the door, hoping he won't see her if she doesn't move, but he does.

His voice is slurred with sleep, almost impossible to decipher. "Where're . . ."

"I'm going back to my room," she tells him. He doesn't respond, instead pressing his face deeper into his pillow, a snore vibrating through the air almost immediately. She prays he doesn't remember in the morning that she was there at all.

She can't keep herself from running through the hallway, her feet light and quick, coming to an abrupt stop at her bedroom door. Unlatching the door and walking inside, Maggie sits up in her bed, obviously never having fallen asleep, her eyes wide and alert in the moonlight streaming through the window. Bella nods furiously, saying nothing, and the two girls slip shoes on their feet, jackets around their shoulders, and grab their makeshift duffel bags. Getting to the front door is easy, but the loud creaking of the screen door and the uneven floorboards of the porch aren't easy to navigate.

Each sound, each second, is matched by the triple beat of Bella's heart, a deep thud-thud-thud as adrenaline floods through her, making her head feel like it's about to burst. Taking the keys from Bella, Maggie examines them quickly, heading over to the large van.

"The engine's so loud," Maggie whispers, both freezing and staring at the other. Bella very briefly considers going back and getting the keys to the car instead, but immediately decides against it, unwilling to take the risk. They're so close; they have to keep going. "We can try to push it down the driveway before we start it. Or we start it and gun it as fast as we can."

Bella already shakes her head. "We need a head start. We'll push it."

Tossing their belongings into the back, Maggie shifts the van into neutral, and both girls stand just inside the open van doors, hands against the frame, old tennis shoes digging into the gravel under their feet. Bella feels sweat break out on her forehead, either from fear or exertion, but the van doesn't move. It's large, old and heavy, and she can't get any momentum going, can't find purchase on the unstable ground.

She wants to cry; in fact, the tears spring to her eyes before she can even think about it properly, but she finds strength from somewhere, biting her lip roughly to keep from crying out with her effort. Over the sound of her pumping heart and her worry-filled mind, she hears the groaning of the front door. She's too afraid to turn around and look, but too afraid not to. Maggie's on the opposite side of the van, unable to see the front of the house, but she spots the sudden look of terror on Bella's face, sees her look sharply over her shoulder.

Esme holds a thin sweater tightly around her torso, walking to the back of the van, saying nothing to Bella, not even looking at her. Esme, meek Esme, tied to Carlisle longer than anyone else, bends her knees, her hands square on the back bumper, and digs her heels into the gravel, pushing with them. Bella rushes to keep going, afraid to stop even for a second to question it, and Maggie joins in, still unsure who came outside or what's going on.

With the extra set of hands, they're able to get the van a hundred yards down the driveway, aided by the slight decline of the land. When Maggie's satisfied with the distance, she steps back, able to see Esme helping them, and the two share a moment, an unspoken agreement. With the tiniest nod, so small Bella thinks she imagined it, Esme turns back to the house and walks away.

Not willing to lose any time evaluating what happened, the two girls jump into the van, the engine coming to life with a roar, and finally leave their home, their prison.

* * *

><p><strong>Three more chapters to go ...<strong>


	31. Chapter 31

_2013_

Sitting in the waiting room of her new therapist's office, Bella's knee bounces nervously. She's staring blankly ahead, her eyes the only thing not fidgeting, a clipboard filled with papers on her lap, the questionnaire completed and the pen still in her hand.

"Isabella?" a voice calls. Looking up, she sees the receptionist giving her a warm smile. She walks over and hands the woman the clipboard. "Sue will be with you in a few minutes."

Bella nods and turns away, too keyed up to sit back down, choosing instead to circle the small room, grabbing at the various pamphlets laid out on a table, flipping through several of them. When her name is finally called, Bella sees Sue, her therapist, standing there with an expectant look on her face. Getting closer, Bella sees that Sue's a petite woman, a few inches shorter than Bella even, crows feet and laugh lines mapping her face, gray hair streaked through the jet black pulled away from her face. Despite her small stature, Sue is voluptuous, her impressive chest almost hitting Bella as she tries to pass through the small doorway. She has the figure of a mother.

Taking a seat in Sue's office, Bella sinks into the comfy chair for the first time of many times to come, the pale green walls unfamiliar at first, but practically becoming a second home after many months of visits. Two times a week. Four months. Nearly forty sessions. Bella digs deep, sharing stories and fears, memories and feelings, tears and anger and guilt bubbling up, over and over. It's hard, it hurts, but it's good.

Life with her father is awkward at first. A routine is difficult to establish considering that six years have passed without being in the same room together. Bella's no longer a teenager, but living at her father's house with no job, depending on his generosity, she doesn't feel like an adult either. Between going to therapy and trying to forge a new bond with Charlie, Bella's exhausted most days. Sue encourages her to open up to her father, even going so far as to include him in some of her therapy sessions, bringing an all new discomfort to their meetings. Charlie's almost stone-faced, but not because he doesn't feel; Bella's learning that she's much like him, burying emotions and thoughts, shoveling dirt over them, hoping to asphyxiate them.

Throughout it all, Bella's bright spot in her days is when she lies on her bed at night, phone at her ear, and talks to Edward. Whether it's ten minutes or two hours, hearing his voice settles her, reaffirms her choices, gives her something to work for when sometimes she doesn't feel like it's enough to do it for herself.

* * *

><p>"<em>Thank you for the card," he says. "I laughed so hard. It's on my fridge now."<em>

"_I'm glad you liked it. Thank you for my present." She blushes; she can't help it. She's never had a valentine before._

"_I love you. I miss you."_

"_I know. Me, too."_

* * *

><p>"<em>Hey, sorry I didn't catch you. I'm leaving early tomorrow, so I should be there by eleven. Can't wait to see you. Love you." Bella smiles as she saves the voicemail, ready to see Edward's face, ready to hold him and kiss him and have him close.<em>

* * *

><p>"<em>God, I think that made it worse." Wiping a fresh tear from her eye, she laughs at herself. "But it was worth it."<em>

"_I know. I wish I could've stayed longer. But in two months, you'll be back. Right? That's still the plan?"_

"_Definitely. Nothing could keep me away."_

* * *

><p>"<em>I guess you're sleeping. I'm sure you'll do great tomorrow. I love you. Call when you get up."<em>

_Bella sits her phone down, clicking through the open tabs on her laptop, still using the one Edward gave her, reading through the programs and requirements, adding up the application costs, and narrowing down her options._

* * *

><p>"<em>Was it super awkward?" Edward asks with a yawn.<em>

"_It wasn't that bad. I had a hard time, you know, opening up, but . . . once I heard some of the other people's stories, I realized we were all there for the same reason. Kinda. You know what I mean. We all wanted to get better. Be . . . not normal. No one's normal."_

_Edward listens, humming lightly in response to her words. "No one's normal," he agrees. "And in three weeks, you'll be here, and we can be not normal together."_

_She laughs, light and carefree and feeling like herself—the self she didn't know before, the one she'd never really found. "Sounds like a plan."_

* * *

><p>Her nightmares have lessened, growing a little less frightening, becoming a little more fictionalized. The fear that's haunted her for years isn't quite so overwhelming when she can put names and faces to it, when she can clearly see the wrong that was done to her, the wrong that was perpetuated by the people who practically held her captive. But she's not captive anymore, and each day it feels like another link in the chain disintegrates, making it easier to move, easier to break out.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Two more to go.<strong>


	32. Chapter 32

_2011_

Bella's hand shakes as she stands at the pay phone bank, receiver held to her ear. She leaves a message on the answering machine—it's not quite dawn, so no one's at Grace Church yet—and hopes that by the time they arrive, James will be there.

Maggie puts gas in the van's tank, not enough to fill it but enough to ensure they can make it to Coeur D'Alene easily. It was a blow to them both when Bella pulled the rolled up cash from her shirt and realized it was mostly one-dollar bills and a single five. They only had twenty-three dollars total, barely enough to eat after putting five gallons of gas in the van. Maggie originally wanted to catch a bus in Spokane and forgo using James at all, but they had no choice now with their limited means.

As the sun broke the horizon, they arrived at the front of Grace Church. Bella had imagined a grand building with a huge steeple, perhaps made of stone with stained glass windows. What she finds is a church with a shabby sign planted in the middle of a shopping center. She tries not to let her hope falter, instead taking a deep breath and walking to the front door, surprised when it opens easily. Inside James sits against a wall, dozing, but jumping to attention when the door closes loudly behind them.

He looks different without the robe, without his hair long around his shoulders. Here, in the morning light, in loose jeans and a t-shirt, hair in a ponytail, he looks just like anyone else.

"I'm glad you called," he tells them, introducing himself to Maggie. "We'll have to figure out what to do pretty fast. And ditch the van."

Within hours the van is gone, parked in a ditch somewhere on the other side of town, and Bella and Maggie both have full stomachs after being treated to a homemade meal by James's mother. With the small allotment of money James is giving them—furnished either by him personally or the church, they're not sure—a bus ticket is purchased for Bella, but Maggie's still unsure what to do.

While Bella had dreamed of getting far away, with the prospect right in front of her, she can't leave the west coast. She chooses a city on the map near the southern edge of Oregon, James assuring her it's far enough away from Carlisle. When Maggie takes a shower, Bella studies James, trying to see what it is in him that makes him different, trying to locate the kindness in his eyes that she's missed seeing for so long.

"Why are you doing this?" she finally asks, averting her eyes to the tabletop in front of her.

"I've had a real relationship with God almost my entire life," he tells her. His eyes are sharp when she looks up at him, and she sees the truth, the emotion there. "To me, he's like . . . a friend, you know. A confidant. A guide. And knowing people out there use that, use him, to manipulate others for their own desires, I just can't sit back and let it happen. It's personal to me. I do whatever I can."

She nods, looking back down. She picks at the cuticles on her left hand, nervous and antsy and not even wanting to hear about James and his relationship with God. Bella doesn't feel like she'd be able to separate Carlisle from God ever again; in her mind, God was a spiteful, greedy being that would only hurt her, if she let him in.

When she leaves here, when James stays behind, when Maggie goes wherever she decides to go, Bella will be on her own. She'll have to do this herself. No person, no god, will carry her.

* * *

><p><em>2013<em>

"Bells," Charlie begins, clearing his throat. Bella pulls her gaze from her phone where she was texting Edward, seeing her father looking uncharacteristically nervous. "I just want you to know that you can come home anytime, you know. If you . . . if things in Oregon don't work out, or . . . whatever. I'd, um, love to have you here."

She smiles, feeling the affection for her father growing just a little more. It's been weird and uneasy at times, but the past few months have been good for the two of them. "Thanks, Dad."

Standing, she wraps her arms around him, hugging him for the first time in a decade, at least. He still smells the same as he did when she was young, when it was easier between them, when he was a superhero to her, when she was just his little girl. "I love you," she tells him, the words easy off her tongue but still completely new in this situation.

"I love you, too." His voice is tight, a little higher pitched than usual, but Bella pretends she doesn't notice. When she sits back down, she keeps her eyes averted, letting Charlie wipe at his own without an audience.

* * *

><p>Sitting in the large crowd, Charlie on one side, Liz on the other, Bella feels whole and welcome and like part of something bigger than her—a real family. The graduates walk across the stage to loud applause, each name being called important to someone there. Thankful the ceremony is almost over, for more reasons than one, Bella stands and cheers when Edward Masen's name is announced, his cap and gown doing nothing to diminish his handsome features. They're too far away for him to really see her, but he looks in their direction, a glorious smile on his face, and Bella knows it's just for her.<p>

She's there, she's home, she's happy and optimistic and moving forward. Each day is a battle, but she's winning. Her life is really starting.

* * *

><p><em>I'll go ahead and leave a bit of a parting AN here, so next chapter stays free and on its own. Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, and rec'd this out - I can't believe anyone read it. When I clicked "spiritual" as one of the genres for this, I definitely felt a little fear, but you guys have been amazing. BelleDean stepped in as beta, and she pimped this out a heck of a lot at first to get people interested, so I definitely owe her a lot. :) I hope I've done this story justice!_


	33. Chapter 33

_Sometime in the future . . . _

The bride and groom press against each other, bodies swaying to the music, so close a slip of paper couldn't fit between them. Their eyes meet, matching browns, and reflect the romantic candlelight flickering around the reception hall.

Edward tears his eyes away from the newly joined couple, instead looking at his own better half. Bella meets his gaze immediately, smiling shyly when he doesn't look away after several seconds. Even now he can give her butterflies.

Reaching for her hand, he lets his fingers trace over the simple yellow gold band on her left ring finger. It's simple, inexpensive; a stand-in. While loose when he first slipped it on her, it's now getting a little tight, and Edward doubts she'll wear it for much longer.

"Wanna dance?" he asks, feeling like he's humored her long enough. She sighs dramatically but the smile on her face lets him know she doesn't mind. Rising to her feet, she opts to kick off the low heels she's wearing before stepping onto the dance floor with him. As he pulls her to him, her protruding belly gets in the way, forcing Edward to stoop awkwardly to whisper in her ear. "I think you look more beautiful today than you did at our wedding."

She snorts, causing him to laugh loudly and lean back, holding her the best he can while accommodating the extra thirty pounds she's carrying. After three songs she's tired, her feet are swelling, and she's broken into an unladylike sweat. Passing the time by eating an extra piece of wedding cake, they're finally able to leave once Tony and Senna head out for their honeymoon.

At home, Bella settles onto her side, already half asleep when Edward joins her. His arms wraps around her, his hand resting on her stomach, and the baby kicks a few times, as if he already knows his daddy. Just as Bella's drifting off to sleep, her phone vibrates on her nightstand.

"Ugh," she says. "I forgot to put it on silent."

She doesn't move, prompting Edward to reach over her and snatch it. He goes to turn it off when he sees it's an email from Charlie.

"It's from your dad," he tells her. She barely hums in acknowledgment, so he opens the message and follows the link provided within. "Hey. Babe. You should read this."

He nudges her and she groans, elbowing him. "Read it to me."

Clearing his throat, he's quiet for a moment before starting in. "Stefan Aronsky, also known as Carlisle Cullen, was murdered in prison this morning, according to Fall River County police."

Bella's eyes pop open, a small gasp escaping her before she holds her breath.

"Aronsky was awaiting trial for seven counts of sexual contact with a minor, one count statutory rape, and one count kidnapping when a fellow prisoner attacked him in the prison cafeteria. Aronsky, leader of a small cult originating in the Pacific Northwest, was arrested eleven months ago after a pregnant sixteen-year-old girl escaped and led the police to Aronsky's temporary residence. His legal wife, Anita Aronsky, going by Esme Cullen, is out on bail for charges of endangerment of a minor and kidnapping."

Edward stops, waiting for Bella's reaction. She takes a deep breath and holds it, flipping through her memories quickly before exhaling. "I guess justice was served."

Putting Bella's phone back on the nightstand, Edward takes his spot behind her, nodding against the nape of her neck. "Are you okay?"

"I am," she says. "I won't give them anymore of my thoughts or my heartache. I'm in control. Just me."

"Good." Within minutes, he's asleep. Bella lies awake for a little while longer, reflecting briefly on her time with Carlisle, fleetingly imagining how he was killed, but then pushes those thoughts aside.

She focuses on the little baby boy that will be joining their family soon; she makes a mental note of a recipe she wants to try when they go to Liz and Anthony's; she feels a little sad about going on maternity leave. She thinks, instead, about her life, the one she's living now, the one she chose.


End file.
